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PEGGY  WARE 

BY 

M.  W.  HOWARD 

Four  Years  Congressman  from  Alabama, 

Author  of  "If  Christ  Came  to  Congress," 

Etc. 


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Published  by 

J.   F.   ROWNY  PRESS 

Los  Angeles,  Cal. 
1921 


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Copyright,  1921 

by 

M.   W.   HOWARD 

Los  Angeles,  Cal. 
All  rights  reserved. 


CONTENTS 


Chapter 
I. 


II. 
III. 

IV. 

V. 

VI. 

VII. 

VIII. 

IX. 

X. 

XI. 

XII. 

XIII. 

XIV. 

XV. 

XVI. 

XVII. 

XVIII. 

XIX. 

XX. 

XXI. 
XXII. 


Christmas  in  the;  Cumberland  Moun- 
tains       ------  7 

Christmas  in  Bucks  Pocket    -        -  22 

Earth  to  Earth        -  33 

The;  Unwelcome;  Strangers      -        -  48 

The  New  Life  Begins  63 

Peggy  Follows  Her  Vision  76 

Cliff  Anderson  Attends  a  Fight     -  85 

The  Mysterious  Man  from  Nowhere  101 

The  Wild  Catter  Surrenders          -  118 

A  Man  Without  a  Name          -        -  129 

The  Mind  Builder  at  Work    -        -  142 

Seeking  Rest  and  Finding  None     -  152 

The  Awakening        -  161 

Back  to  the  Old  Home      -                 -  176 

The  Lonesome  Folks        -        -        -  197 
Behold  What  a  Flame  a  Little  Spark 

Kindleth          ---__  212 

The  Slackers'  Rendezvous  234 

The  Surrender          -  253 

Cliff  Anderson  Enters  Politics       -  283 

Peggy  Goes  to  Washington       -        -  '  306 

Peggy's  Gethsemane         -  323 

Christ  Liveth   in  Me               -        -  338 


:  iw  O    j 


Chapter  One 

CHRISTMAS  IN  THE  CUMBERLAND 
MOUNTAINS 

4  '/^vH,  Uncle  Simon,  do  come  up  to  the  house  this 
1      J    minute,  and  see  Peggy  wearing  mama's  wed- 
ding dress.    It's  the  finest  dress  you  ever  saw, 
and  Peggy  is  just  beautiful  in  it!" 

Ralph  Ware  was  all  excitement  and  enthusiasm,  as 
he  stood  in  the  door  of  Simon's  cabin,  located  in  one 
corner  of  the  yard. 

Ralph  was  just  ten,  with  big  brown  eyes,  dark 
curly  hair,  and  a  chubby  face. 

"I'se  pow'ful  busy,  lettle  boy,"  said  Simon,  "but 
I  ain't  seed  dat  dress  sence  your  mammy  wore  it  at 
her  weddin',  an'  I'll  jest  lay  my  work  down  fer  a 
lettle  while  an'  run  up  to  de  big  house  wid  you." 

"What  are  you  making.  Uncle  Simon?"  asked  Ralph, 
looking  at  the  great  pile  of  shavings  that  littered 
Simon's  floor  and  hearth. 

"Lettle  boys  musn't  ax  questions,  'specially  long 
erbout  Christmas  eve.  You  know  dat  it  wus  on 
Christmas  eve  dat  curiosity  killed  de  cat  what  you 
alius  heerd  erbout." 

"Did  curiosity  really  kill  him,  Uncle  Simon?" 

"Wall,  dat's  whut  dey  alius  tell  me,  but  I  don't 
think  it  killed  him  more'n  seben  times,  an'  den  de 
cat  learn  to  min'  his  own  business,  an'  he  still  hab 
two  more  libes  lef  an'  he  know  how  to  behave  hisself." 


" '&• ' '.  ;Peggy    Ware 

.  .  .  .By  ,this ; time  they  had  reached  the  "big  house,"  as 
.'•'.'  Simbti. designated  tlie  double  log  house  in  which  the 
Wares  lived,  and  Simon  was  cut  short  in  his  disserta- 
tion about  cats. 

"Come  in,  Simon,"  said  Mrs.  Ware,  "and  tell  me  if 
you  recognize  this  dress.  It  has  been  hidden  away 
for  many  years,  but  Peggy  discovered  it  today,  and  in- 
sisted on  trying  it  on." 

"'Corse  I  membahs  it,  Young  Missus,  an'  I  membahs 
de  day  you  an'  Massa  Ware  wus  married  at  de  big 
church  weddin'.  You  wus  de  belle  ob  Shenandoah 
Valley,  an'  I  wus  so  proud  ob  you  as  you  stood  up 
long  side  ob  Massa  Ware,  young  an'  hansum,  an'  you 
lookin  lak  a  queen." 

"Tell  us  all  about  it,  Uncle  Simon,"  cried  Ralph  and 
Virginia  in  chorus.  "We  want  to  hear  about  our  beau- 
tiful mother  when  she  was  a  girl  back  in  Virginia." 

"Did  you  know  her  when  she  was  a  little  teensy 
baby?"  asked  Virginia,  the  youngest  member  of  the 
Ware  family.    "Did  she  look  like  me?" 

"Don't  ask  so  many  questions,  'Cotton  Top',"  ex- 
claimed Ralph.  "Of  course  she  didn't  look  like  you, 
because  your  hair  is  white  and  your  eyes  are  as  blue 
as  the  sky  in  June,  while  Mamma's  hair  is  as  black  as 
a  crow,  and  her  eyes  are  just  like  mine,"  he  proudly 
asserted. 

"Answerin'  yore  fust  question,  Virginia,  I  knowed 
yore  mothah  when  I  could  hold  her  out  on  one  han', 
an'  I  knowed  her  mothah  an'  her  fathah." 

Virginia  had  climbed  upon  Simon's  knee  and  set- 
tled down  comfortably  for  the  story  that  she  and  Ralph 
had  heard  from  the  old  man's  lips  a  hundred  times. 
To  them  it  was  always  a  new  story,  and  grew  more 
wonderful  with  each  repetition. 


Christmas  in  the;  Cumberland  Mountains        7 

A  big  log  fire  burned  in  the  wide-mouthed  chimney, 
and  Peggy  and  her  mother  took  their  seats  to  listen 
to  the  story  that  Peggy  loved  quite  as  well  as  Ralph 
and  Virginia. 

"I  belonged  to  Cap'n  Lee  befo'  de  wah,"  the  old  man 
began.  "He  was  yore  gran'pa.  He  was  a  cousin 
ob  General  Robert  E.  Lee,  an'  de  Lees,  you  know,  had 
de  fines'  blood  in  ol'  Virginny,  an'  dat's  sayin'  sumpin', 
case  Virginny  got  de  fines'  blood  in  de  worl'."  The 
old  man  straightened  himself  up  proudly  as  he  deliv- 
ered this  statement  with  an  air  that  would  have  made 
contradiction  presumptuous. 

"Yassum,  it's  de  shore  'stocracy  blood,  an'  wharevah 
you  fin'  it  in  de  Carolinas,  Georgia,  Tennessee,  an' 
Alabama,  you  kin  alius  tell  de  Virginny  blood." 

"Are  you  a  Lee,  Uncle  Simon?"  asked  Virginia  earn- 
estly. 

The  old  man  scratched  his  head,  frowned,  and 
thought  very  hard.  "Ob  cose  I'se  a  Lee,"  he  said  final- 
ly, "my  name  is  Simon  Lee,  an'  I  libed  wid  de  Lees  so 
long  dat  I  des  nachelly  got  'noculated  wid  de  Lee 
blood.  Dat's  why  I  alius  tells  lettle  boys  an'  gals  to 
'sociate  wid  none  but  quality." 

"Well,  I  heard  my  papa  say  that  his  folks  were  'poor 
white  trash'  before  the  war,"  ventured  Ralph.  "What 
did  he  mean  by  that?" 

"Wall,  befo'  de  wah,  honey,  all  we  niggers  dat  be- 
long to  white  folks  got  stuck  up  an'  thought  we  wus 
bettah  dan  de  white  folks  dat  don't  own  no  niggers, 
an'  we  call  dem  'po'  white  trash,'  an'  we  sorter  looked 
down  on  dem.  But  when  de  wah  come  yore  gran'- 
daddy  Ware  fought  long  side  ob  yoah  gran'daddy  Lee, 
an'  dey  wus  bofe  killed  in  Virginny,  an'  when  dey  wus 
brought  home  dey  wus  buried  in  de  same  grabe  yahd, 
side  by  side. 


8  Peggy    Ware 

"Yoah  gran'pa  Lee  lef  a  big  plantation  wid  thou- 
sans  ob  acres  ob  Ian'  an'  joinin'  it  yoah  gran'pa  Ware 
lef  about  a  hundred  acres.  De  niggers  use  to  laugh 
an'  say  he  des  had  enough  Ian'  to  make  a  turnip  patch. 
But  when  de  wah  wus  ovah  an'  de  slabes  freed  an' 
mos'  ob  dem  gone  yoah  gran'ma  Ware's  place  wus 
wuth  des  erbout  as  much  as  yoah  gran'ma  Lee's  place, 
'case  dey  warn't  nobody  to  cultivate  nothin'  'cept  lit- 
tle patches  scattahed  heah  an'  dah. 

"Wall,  yoah  gran'mas  wus  de  bes'  frens  in  de  worl'. 
Dey  bofe  wove  dey  own  cloth  an'  made  de  jeans  fer 
de  men  an'  de  linsey  fer  de  wimmin,  an'  dey  warn't 
no  moah  po'  white  trash  aftah  de  wah.  Ev'ry  tub 
stood  on  its  own  bottom,  an'  ef  you  had  de  blood  it 
didn't  make  no  diffe'nce  wheatha  you  owned  slabes 
befo'  de  wah  'r  not. 

"Yoah  gran'ma  Ware  and  yoah  gran'pa  Ware  had 
des  as  good  blood  as  anybody  evah  had  dat  warn't  a 
Lee,  an'  when  yoah  ma  married  Massa  Wilbur  Ware, 
I  said  dey  nevah  wus  no  finah  blood  jined. 

"An'  it  wus  de  right  sort  ob  marriage,  too,  'case  dey 
had  knowed  one  nother  sence  dey  knowed  anythin', 
an'  dey  had  lubed  one  another  all  dey  lives,  an'  God 
done  jined  dem  togethah  in  heaben'  befo  dey  wus  pro- 
nounced man  an'  wife  by  de  preacher." 

"Was  my  father  a  preacher  when  he  got  married?" 
asked  Ralph. 

"Yes,  chile,  he  wus  de  likelies'  young  preacher  in  de 
Shenandoah  Valley.  He  wus  des  home  frum  a  big 
'ological  school  in  Boston,  an'  he  brought  a  whole 
wagon  load  ob  dem  'ological  books  wid  him.  Dey 
up  in  dem  shelves  now,  an'  erbout  a  thousan'  more 
dat  he  bought  sence  den." 

"Well,  I  ain't  never  going  to  be  no  preacher,"  de- 
clared Ralph,  "because  preacher's  can't  have  any  fun." 


Christmas  in  the:  Cumberland  Mountains        9 

"Wall,  I  ain't  gwine  to  'scuss  dat  now,"  said  Simon 
thoughtfully.  "I  think  they  mout  an'  again  they  mout- 
ent.  I  ain't  sayin'  what  I  thinks,  'cept  this :  On 
Christmus  eve  de  whol'  woiT  ought  to  be  happy,  even 
de  preachers." 

"It  seems  to  me,  Simon,  that  the  preachers  ought 
to  be  the  happiest  people  in  the  world,"  said  Peggy, 
"for  they  are  doing  such  a  noble  work  in  ministering 
to  the  distressed  and  needy  and  leading  people  into 
the  light  of  truth." 

"At  least  we  shall  try  to  feel  this  way  about  it  to- 
day," said  Peggy's  mother,  "for  this  should  be  the 
gladdest,  happiest  time  of  all  the  year.  Our  Savior 
came  to  the  world  at  this  time,  hence  we  call  it  Christ- 
mas. He  came  to  give  the  world  its  greatest  Christ- 
mas gift,  the  gift  of  the  life  of  joy,  peace,  and  abund- 
ance, and  we,  in  our  poor  way,  make  gifts  to  each 
other,  trying  to  emulate  the  Christ  spirit." 

"I  don't  like  Christmas,"  spoke  a  harsh  voice,  and 
all  turned  toward  Wilbur  Ware,  who  had  entered  the 
house  without  being  observed. 

Peggy  rose  to  offer  her  father  a  chair,  and  he  ob- 
served that  she  wore  her  mother's  wedding  dress.  His 
face  softened  for  an  instant.  "Ah,  your  mother's  wed- 
ding dress.  How  beautiful  you  are  in  it,  my  child,  but 
not  more  beautiful  than  your  mother  was  the  day  she 
wore  it,  nor  more  beautiful  than  she  is  now,"  he  said 
gently  as  he  walked  over  to  the  corner  where  his  wife 
sat  and  pressed  a  kiss  on  her  cheek. 

As  he  did  so,  .he  observed  that  her  cheeks  were 
flushed  and  her  eyes  unusually  bright,  shining  like 
dew  drops  after  a  Spring  shower.  A  fit  of  coughing 
seized  her,  but  she  laughed  musically,  saying  she  had 
taken  a  slight  cold,  but  that  she  would  be  entirely  well 
by  morning  and  able  to  attend  church  with  the  family. 


10  Peggy    Ware 

Wilbur  Ware,  Peggy  and  Simon  were  greatly  dis- 
tressed about  her  condition,  and  a  dagger  thrust  to 
their  hearts  could  not  have  given  them  keener  pain 
than  this  soul-racking  cough  of  the  one  they  loved,  a 
victim  of  the  great  white  plague. 

Peggy  assumed  a  gaiety  she  did  not  feel,  for  in  her 
heart  there  was  a  great  fear  that  some  impending  dis- 
aster hung  over  the  Ware  home. 

Resuming  his  conversation,  Ware  said :  "No,  I  don't 
like  Christmas.  It  is  the  saddest  season  of  the  year, 
for  me.  I  always  feel  my  poverty  more  keenly  at 
Christmas  than  at  any  other  time,  for  I  am  unable  to 
give  presents  to  the  members  of  my  family  and  to 
others  who  are  in  need." 

"Wall,  I  got  to  go  down  to  de  cabin  an'  finish  a 
little  whittlin'  befo'  bed  time,"  said  Simon,  "an'  I 
'spect  I  bettah  be  gwine." 

"We  are  going  to  have  roasted  sweet  potatoes  and 
sweet  milk  for  supper,  Simon,  with  lots  of  good  butter 
to  put  on  our  potatoes,"  said  Ralph.  "Don't  you  want 
to  come  up  and  eat  your  supper?" 

"Do  come,  Simon,"  urged  Peggy  and  her  mother. 
"Dat's  a  Christmas  eve  supper  fitten  fer  a  king,"  said 
the  old  man,  smacking  his  lips.  "Day  ain't  but  one 
thing  to  make  it  bettah,  an'  dat  would  be  a  good  fat 
possum,  an'  ef  Ralph  will  borry  a  good  possum  dog, 
we'll  ketch  one  afo'  Miss  Peggy  goes  back  to  college." 
Peggy  had  been  home  a  week  from  college,  and  she 
had  been  busy  assisting  her  mother  in  making  some 
clothing  for  Ralph  and  Virginia  from  some  of  her  out- 
grown garments.  These,  with  warm  woolen  socks 
her  mother  had  knit  for  her  father  and  Simon,  were 
to  be  hung  on  a  Christmas  tree  that  Simon  had  ready 
in  an  adjoining  room.  There  were  also  some  cakes 
and  homemade  candy  for  Ralph  and  Virginia  hidden  in 


Christmas  in  the  Cumberland  Mountains      11 

Simon's  cabin.  The  shavings  on  Simon's  floor  were 
made  by  his  jackknife,  with  which  he  was  an  expert. 
From  pieces  of  soft  timber  he  had  whittled  many  won- 
derful toys  for  the  two  younger  members  of  the  family. 

Peggy  was  now  sixteen,  and  had  completed  a  two 
years'  course  at  college.  She  had  an  unusual  mind 
that  seemed  to  know  things  without  being  taught. 
Stored  away  in  her  subconscious  or  superconscious 
mind  was  a  fountain  of  knowledge  and  wisdom  that 
she  was  apparently  able  to  tap  at  will. 

She  was  the  pride  of  her  teachers,  and  would  have 
been  envied  by  her  fellow  pupils  but  for  her  unusual 
personality  that  made  every  one  love  her  and  glad  to 
have  her  excel. 

She  had  been  given  a  scholarship  at  the  college  be- 
cause her  father  was  a  minister,  and  on  account  of  her 
superior  gifts,  but  it  had  entailed  untold  privations  and 
sacrifices  on  the  part  of  each  member  of  the  Ware 
family  to  supply  the  small  amount  of  money  required 
for  Peggy's  board  and  clothing. 

In  fact,  it  would  have  been  impossible  but  for  the 
help  of  old  Simon.  His  devotion  to  Peggy  was  almost 
divine,  and  he  had  insisted  on  "hiring  out"  to  work 
on  a  near-by  farm,  where  he  received  a  certain  wage 
and  his  "grub."  Every  dollar  had  been  turned  over 
to  Wilbur  Ware  for  Peggy.  Simon  even  refused  to 
buy  a  pair  of  shoes,  when  his  old  ones  could  no  longer 
be  mended.  He  said  he  preferred  going  barefoot  so 
his  "cawns  could  git  well." 

Peggy,  although  she  had  devoured  all  the  books  in 
the  college  library  on  science,  philosophy,  and  the  his- 
tory of  the  various  religions,  was  not  the  typical  book- 
worm. She  was  full  of  a  healthy  enthusiasm,  and  was 
a  leader  in  all  college  sports.     She  was  the  soul  and 


12  Peggy    Ware 

center  of  all  the  activities  of  the  student  body,  and  no 
movement  was  complete  without  Peggy  Ware. 

Her  hair  was  an  unusual  golden  shade,  her  eyes  blue 
as  sapphire,  and  as  she  looked  earnestly  at  you,  you 
could  never  penetrate  their  depths. 

"Miss  Peggy's  eyes  des  lak  a  pool  in  de  woods  what 
ain't  got  no  bottom,"  old  Simon  was  wont  to  say  when 
referring  to  her. 

"The  sweet  potatoes  are  done,"  declared  Ralph  as 
he  removed  them  from  their  bed  of  hot  ashes  and 
coals.    "I  will  go  and  call  Simon." 

"Lawd,  you  don'  need  to  call  me,  chil',"  the  old  man 
exclaimed  gleefully  as  he  came  in,  brushing  the  snow 
from  his  coat.  "I  done  heerd  dem  sweet  taters  callin' 
clean  down  to  de  cabin.  It's  snowin'  pow'ful  hard,  an' 
I  'spect  de  groun'  will  be  covered  in  de  mawnin'." 

"If  it  is,  you'll  have  to  carry  me  on  your  back,  Simon, 
to  church,"  said  Virginia. 

"Dat  I  will,"  said  Simon.  "I  toted  Peggy.  Ralph 
and  you  when  you  wus  lettle,  an'  I  toted  yoah  ma,  an' 
lettle  Florence  when  she  was  heah." 

A  look  of  suffering  passed  over  Wilbur  Ware's  face 
at  the  mention  of  Florence,  which  was  not  unobserved 
by  Peggy  and  her  mother. 

"I've  fixed  you  a  plate  in  this  warm  corner,  Simon, 
where  you  can  eat  your  supper  while  we  sit  at  the 
table,"  said  Peggy. 

"Fse  so  happy,  so  happy !"  exclaimed  the  old  man, 
"that  you'se  all  well,  got  a  wahm  house  to  lib  in,  plenty 
to  eat,  an'  Miss  Peggy,  de  smartes'  gal  in  college,  heah 
wid  us  to  enjoy  it  all." 

"And  I  thank  God  for  you,  Simon,"  said  Mrs.  Ware. 
"You  have  been  the  most  faithful  soul  in  the  world, 
and  I  love  you.  We  all  love  you  with  a  love  that  is 
too  great  for  words.     When  the  war  was  over  and 


Christmas  in  the  Cumberland  Mountains      13 

you  were  free  to  go  where  you  pleased,  you  remained 
with  my  mother  and  watched  over  me.  When  I  mar- 
ried and  my  mother  had  passed  on,  you  left  everything 
and  followed  our  fortunes  without  hope  of  reward. 
You  never  thought  of  self  in  your  younger  days,  and 
now  you  are  old  and  penniless,  and  we  are  almost  as 
poor  in  this  world's  goods.  I  know  God  will  reward 
you  when  He  calls  you  home,  for  you  certainly  lost 
your  life  in  your  thought  of  others." 

"I  don'  hab  to  die  to  git  my  rewahd,  Young  Missus," 
the  old  man  declared  reverently.  "I  don'  been  gittin' 
it  all  de  time.  An'  I  don't  hab  to  die  to  go  to  Hebin 
nethah,  'case  dis  is  Hebin  right  heah.  I  libes  in  Hebin' 
all  de  time,  an'  I  don't  much  believe  dat  you  gwine  to 
walk  right  slap  bang  into  Hebin  when  you  gits  obah 
yondah,  onless  you  takes  yore  Hebin  wid  you." 

"I  think  you  are  right,  Simon"  said  Peggy. 

Her  father  frowned.  "That  is  poor  theology,  Si- 
mon," he  said.  "I  don't  think  you  and  Peggy  know 
what  you  are  talking  about.  In  my  sermon  tomorrow, 
I  shall  try  to  set  you  right." 

Neither  Peggy  nor  Simon  replied,  Simon  realizing 
his  own  ignorance,  and  Peggy  unwilling  to  argue  with 
her  father. 

There  was  a  vacant  chair  at  the  table,  a  child's  chair, 
with  a  white  oak  splint  bottom.  It  was  given  to  Flor- 
ence, the  first  born  of  the  Ware  children,  by  an  old 
blind  man  who  made  chairs  for  a  living.  It  was 
guarded  sacredly  and  never  brought  from  its  place  of 
seclusion  except  on  the  night  before  Christmas.  No 
one  made  any  reference  to  the  little  chair  during  the 
progress  of  the  meal,  but  each  knew  that  it  was  upper- 
most in  each  other's  thoughts. 

Early  in  the  evening,  Ralph  and  Virginia  began  to 
manifest   by  yawns  and   nods  a   desire   to   seek   their 


14  Peggy    Ware 

beds.  They  felt  that  in  some  way  the  hours  would 
pass  more  quickly  if  they  were  asleep.  Their  mother, 
remembering  how  she  had  felt  at  their  age  under  simi- 
lar circumstances,  suggested  to  her  husband  that  the 
children  be  allowed  to  go  to  bed. 

Then,  as  was  his  custom,  the  minister  took  his  well- 
thumbed  Bible  from  its  resting  place,  and  read  the 
beautiful  twenty-third  Psalm,  after  which  they  all  knelt 
devoutly  and  offered  their  thanks  to  God. 

When  Ralph  and  Virginia  were  sound  asleep,  the 
others  sat  by  the  great  wood  fire  as  the  hickory  logs 
burned  into  glowing  coals,  the  flames  forming  fantastic 
shapes  and  figures,  depending  on  the  mood  and  fancy 
of  the  beholder. 

For  a  long  time  no  word  was  spoken,  each  knowing 
the  thing  nearest  the  other's  heart,  and  yet  hesitating 
to  begin  a  discussion  of  the  subject  that  all  knew  was 
inevitable. 

At  last  the  silence  was  broken  by  Wilbur  Ware,  and 
his  voice  was  unusually  hard  and  hopeless.  "Sixteen 
years  ago  tomorrow  this  little  chair  was  left  vacant 
when  some  fiend  cruelly  stole  our  little  Florence.  For 
years  I  searched  for  her  all  over  the  country  from 
Richmond  to  Atlanta,  Chattanooga,  and  Nashville. 
Something  kept  telling  me  that  she  was  alive  and  that 
I  would  find  her.  I  could  not  understand  how  a  good 
and  merciful  God  could  be  so  cruel  as  to  take  our 
darling  away  from  us.  As  time  went  on  my  faith 
waned,  and  now  I  have  long  ceased  to  hope.  God  has 
hidden  His  face  from  me,  and  I  am  groping  in  the  dark. 
All  the  old  foundations  upon  which  I  built  while  at  the 
Theological  Seminary,  and  upon  which  I  have  stood 
since,  seem  to  be  crumbling  beneath  me.  I  used  to 
think  that  love  was  God's  predominating  characteristic  ; 
but  He  is  also  powerful  in  vengeance,  and  it  is  the 


Christmas  in  the;  Cumberland  Mountains      15 

vengeance  of  the  Lord  visited  on  me  for  my  sins.  It 
is  to  teach  me  to  fear  Him,  and  to  show  me  that  I  am 
but  a  poor,  creeping  worm  of  the  dust. 

"And  yet,  there  are  times,"  the  now  deeply  agitated 
minister  exclaimed,  as  he  paced  the  floor,  his  eyes 
blazing,  his  fists  clinched,  his  breast  heaving,  "when  I 
almost  hate  him !" 

Suddenly  he  stopped,  frightened,  horrified  that  he 
should  have  dared  to  give  utterance  to  such  blasphemy, 
and  sank  into  his  chair,  the  tears  following  the  deep 
lines  of  suffering  down  his  weather-beaten  cheeks, 
while  his  massive  form  was  rocked  by  the  inward 
tempest. 

His  wife,  also  weeping  sympathetically,  placed  her 
arms  lovingly  about  him,  while  Peggy  knelt  at  his 
feet,  holding  one  of  his  great,  bony  hands  in  her  two 
soft,  warm  ones,  smiling  through  her  tears,  while 
Simon  covertly  drew  his  red  bandana  handkerchief 
from  his  pocket  and  applied  it  vigorously  to  his  eyes, 
saying,  "My  ole  eyes  are  gittin'  so  pow'ful  bad,  I  think 
I  will  have  to  buy  a  pair  of  specs."  At  this  Peggy 
laughed  heartily  and  said  : 

"Simon,  I  think  I  need  some  specs,  too!" 

Gradually  the  tempest  of  doubt,  of  lack  of  faith  in 
God  raging  in  Wilbur  Ware's  soul  began  to  subside, 
and  Mrs.  Ware,  her  face  illumined  until  all  looked  at 
her  awe-stricken,  as  though  she  were  some  ancient 
prophetess  just  stepped  down  from  the  skies,  exclaimed  : 

"Wilbur,  I  see  a  vision  too  big  for  utterance.  It  is 
so  great  that  it  overwhelms  me,  and  in  its  presence  I 
stand  on  holy  ground,  for  in  the  midst  of  the  vision  I 
see  God.     And  He  is  guiding  us. 

"I  am  near  the  end  of  my  journey,  but  a  great  work 
lies  before  the  rest  of  you.  There  will  be  much  suf- 
fering, much  anguish,  but  in  the  end  you  will  all  really 


16  Peggy    Ware 

find  God,  for  He  is  beckoning.  And  you  will  find  our 
dear  child.  I  see  her  alive  and  well,  and  some  day 
there  will  be  a  happy  family  reunion,  and  my  spirit 
will  be  there  to  rejoice  with  you." 

As  she  ceased  talking,  all  were  silent.  They  felt  an 
unusual  presence  and  power,  and  stood  in  awe  of 
something  they  did  not  understand. 

Quietly  Simon  stole  out  to  his  cabin  as  Peggy  kissed 
her  father  and  mother  good-night  and  climbed  the 
stairway  to  the  attic  room,  leaving  them  with  clasped 
hands,  looking  into  the  glowing  coals. 

Early  Christmas  morning  Ralph  and  Virginia  were 
peeping  out  of  the  window  for  the  first  streak  of 
dawn  when  they  discovered  that  a  heavy  snow  had 
fallen  during  the  night.  Their  shouts  of  delight  aroused 
the  entire  household,  and  all  were  soon  gathered  about 
the  great  fire  that  Simon  had  slipped  in  and  built  while 
every  one  slept. 

Soon  the  door  of  the  other  room  opened  and  Santa 
Claus  appeared  and  announced  that  he  was  ready  to 
distribute  the  presents  on  the  Christmas  tree.  His 
long  white  beard  and  funny  wig  so  disguised  him  that 
Ralph  and  Virginia  did  not  recognize  him  until  all 
the  presents  had  been  distributed,  and  he  produced 
his  banjo  and  began  to  pick  one  of  Simon's  favorite 
jigs  and  to  dance  to  the  music.  Then  they  knew  it 
was  dear  old  "Uncle  Simon."  They  took  off  his  long 
beard  and  funny  wig,  screaming  with  delight  at  dis- 
covering that  Simon  had  rubbed  flour  on  his  face  until 
it  was  white.  Banteringly  they  said :  "Simon,  why 
did  you  make  your  face  white?"  To  which  he  replied: 
"Huh,  who  ever  seen  a  nigger  Santa  Claus?" 
When  the  hour  arrived  for  going  to  church,  Mrs. 
Ware  wanted  to  accompany  the  family,  but  all  pro- 
tested that  the  walk  through  the  snow  would  be  too 


Christmas  in  the  Cumberland  Mountains      17 

much  for  her,  so  she  reluctantly  consented  to  remain 
at  home. 

Peggy,  walking  beside  her  father,  followed  by  Ralph, 
striding  proudly  by  himself,  Simon  with  Virginia 
perched  on  his  shoulder,  bringing  up  the  rear,  formed 
the  little  procession  that  took  up  its  march  to  the 
mountain  church  a  mile  away,  Mrs.  Ware  watching 
from  the  window  until  it  had  wound  its  way  over  the 
hill. 

In  the  church  there  was  an  assembly  of  typical 
mountaineers  who  had  sat  under  the  theological 
preaching  of  Wilbur  Ware  for  the  past  five  years.  He 
had  come  to  them  from  one  of  the  largest  churches  in 
Knoxville.  Just  why  no  one  seemed  to  know.  Un- 
complainly  and  unquestioningly  his  wife,  children,  and 
Simon  had  followed  him,  and  endured  without  a  mur- 
mur the  hardships  and  privations  of  their  new  en- 
vironment. 

In  his  search  for  his  lost  child  in  previous  years  he 
had  spent  a  few  days  in  the  wild  recesses  of  the  Cum- 
berland Mountains,  and  as  his  thoughts  became  more 
and  more  introspective,  he  felt  drawn  back  to  this  out 
of  the  way  place. 

It  was  five  years  ago  that  he  finally  lost  all  hope  of 
finding  Florence,  and  with  hope  dead  he  desired  to  get 
away  from  the  world,  so  that  he  would  be  able  to 
devote  more  of  his  time  to  his  theological  studies.  He 
had  accumulated  one  of  the  largest  theological  libraries 
in  the  South,  depriving  himself  and  family  of  many  of 
life's  comforts  so  that  he  could  buy  the  precious  books 
containing  the  thoughts,  beliefs,  and  interpretations  of 
other  men's  minds. 

His  sermons  to  the  little  mountain  church  would 
have  made  him  famous  if  they  had  been  delivered  as 
lectures  in  some  great  theological  school;  but  to  his 


18  Peggy    Ware 

hearers  they  had  little  meaning,  and  they  accepted  all 
he  said  as  being  true.  He  officiated  at  weddings  and 
funerals,  but  always  his  discourses  were  as  cold  as 
icicles,  and  his  words  like  the  chill  of  the  winter  winds. 

This  mental  and  spiritual  attitude  of  her  husband 
had  caused  his  wife  great  sorrow,  and  in  secret  she  had 
poured  out  her  heart  to  God  for  him. 

Peggy  had  been  away  at  college  most  of  the  time  for 
two  years,  so  that  she  was  not  wholly  prepared  for  the 
sermon  her  father  delivered  on  this  Christmas  morn- 
ing. She  had  played  the  little,  old,  squeaky  organ  and 
sang  Sankey's  beautiful  song,  "The  Ninety  and  Nine," 
while  the  audience  sat  spell  bound  under  the  magic  of 
the  beautiful  words  of  the  song  as  interpreted  by 
Peggy.  Many  of  her  auditors  whose  lives  had  been 
hard,  cold,  and  barren,  were  moved  to  tears,  while  her 
father's  face  showed  a  great  struggle  of  contending 
emotions. 

His  sermon  came  like  an  icy  blast  following  an  April 
shower,  and  the  buds  of  tender  emotions  froze  into 
icicles,  even  as  they  burst  into  full  bloom. 

"Vanity,  vanity,  all  is  vanity,  and  vexation  of  spirit," 
said  the  preacher,  and  a  shudder  ran  through  the 
audience. 

"Man  is  doomed  to  a  life  of  sorrow  and  woe,  and 
when  he  is  cut  down,  must  go  before  an  angry,  but 
just  God,  to  give  an  account  for  the  sins  of  the  flesh. 

"We  are  born  in  sin,  and  shapen  in  iniquity,  and  are 
all  on  the  road  to  hell ;  and  nothing  but  the  blood  of 
Jesus  can  save  us  from  the  wrath  of  a  sin-avenging 
God.  I  warn  you  that  unless  you  believe  in  the  power 
of  the  blood  to  cleanse  from  sin,  'you  will  be  lost  and 
lost  through  all  eternity.'  And  if  you  are  not  washed 
in  the  blood  you  will  spend  eternity  crying  'Lost ! 
lost !  lost !'  but  God  will  turn  a  deaf  ear  to  your  cries." 


Christmas  in  the;  Cumberland  Mountains      19 

Peggy  sat  horrified,  a  feeling  of  fear  clutching  at  her 
heart. 

At  the  conclusion  of  the  sermon,  her  father  an- 
nounced the  closing  hymn,  "Hark,  from  the  tombs  a 
doleful  sound,"  but  Peggy  shook  her  head  mournfully 
when  he  requested  her  to  lead  the  singing. 

In  a  hard,  unsympathetic  voice,  the  preacher  sang 
the  first  line  of  the  hymn,  a  few  of  the  older  members 
of  the  congregating  joining  in  from  time  to  time,  in 
wailing,  discordant  tones  as  he  "lined  the  hymn." 

Peggy  sat  with  bowed  head,  a  great  pity  in  her  soul, 
and  a  strong,  almost  irresistible  desire  to  tell  her 
father  and  the  assembled  people  about  God's  love  and 
God's  mercy. 

The  service  concluded,  Wilbur  Ware  strode  solemnly 
from  the  church,  few  caring  to  come  near  or  to  speak 
to  him.  Scarcely  had  he  departed  from  the  room  until 
a  great  change  came  over  the  audience ;  with  one 
accord  they  rushed  to  greet  Peggy,  the  female  mem- 
bers smothering  her  with  kisses  and  embraces.  Spring 
had  burst  again.  The  bleak  winter  wind  of  a  few  min- 
utes ago  was  forgotten,  and  Peggy's  smile,  her  musical 
voice,  her  warm  handclasp,  her  soul  speaking  through 
her  eyes,  had  in  one  wonderful  moment  brought  the 
Kingdom  of  Heaven  right  into  their  midst,  and  in 
that  moment  some  of  them  felt  a  presence  that  they 
could  not  explain ;  but  Peggy  could  have  told  them 
that  it  was  God,  "nearer  to  them  than  hands  or  feet." 

It  was  a  long  time  before  Peggy  could  tear  herself 
away  from  the  heart-hungry  people,  but  with  a  promise 
that  she  would  be  with  them  on  the  following  Sunday 
she  finally  made  her  escape  in  the  midst  of  many 
"good-byes"  and  "God  bless  you's." 

Simon,  Ralph,  and  Virginia  were  waiting  for  her  on 
the  outside.     In  answer  to  her  eager  inquiry  she  was 


20  Peggy    Ware; 

told  that  her  father  was  impatient  and  had  gone  on 
home. 

Joyfully  they  followed  the  trail  now  beaten  out  in 
the  snow;  Ralph  marching  proudly  by  the  side  of  "Big 
Sis,"  as  he  fondly  called  Peggy,  while  Simon,  with 
Virginia  in  her  accustomed  place  on  his  shoulder,  kept 
step  in  the  rear. 

As  they  approached  the  home,  Peggy  was  seized  by 
some  indefinable  dread.  She  ceased  to  respond  to  the 
prattle  of  the  children.  Her  face  became  ashen  and 
her  limbs  trembled  until  she  felt  that  they  would  not 
sustain  her  as  she  moved  at  a  rapid  pace;  Simon  kept 
close  beside  her,  he  too  feeling  some  impending 
disaster. 

When  they  arrived  at  the  gate,  they  heard  a  strange 
voice,  now  hoarse  and  angry,  and  anon  broken  and 
pleading.  They  stopped  in  fear.  What  could  it  mean? 
Who  was  this  stranger,  and  where  was  father?  They 
listened  for  their  mother's  voice,  but  it  was  not  to  be 
heard.  Then  an  awful  thing  happened.  The  man 
inside  the  house  began  to  curse  God,  and  they  heard 
him  say : 

"If  there  is  a  God,  I  hate  him!  I  hate  him!  for  he 
not  only  took  my  little  Florence  away  from  me,  but 
now  he  has  taken  my  precious  wife." 

They  did  not  wait  to  hear  more,  but  rushed  into  the 
house.  On  the  bed  lay  the  mother,  a  beautiful  smile 
parting  her  lips,  the  roses  still  in  her  cheeks,  her  eyes 
gently  closed,  the  long,  beautiful  lashes  covering  them 
for  the  long  sleep,  while  Wilbur  Ware  crouched  on  the 
floor,  with  the  look  of  some  desperately  wounded  wild 
animal  in  his  face,  his  hair  dishevelled,  his  eyes  blood- 
shot, the  veins  in  his  neck  and  forehead  swollen  and 
black  as  though  about  to  burst. 


Christmas  in  the  Cumberland  Mountains      21 

Ralph  and  Virginia  standing  in  the  presence  of  death 
for  the  first  time  did  not  recognize  him,  but  called 
piteously  for  "mother,"  while  Peggy,  overcome  with 
the  greatest  sorrow  of  her  life,  kissed  the  beloved  lips 
and  stroked  the  beautiful  hair,  crying,  "My  God,  my 
God !  was  it  not  possible  for  this  cup  of  sorrow  to  have 
passed?" 

Old  Simon,  standing  at  the  foot  of  the  bed,  his  white 
head  bowed  low,  his  body  shaken  as  by  some  mighty 
inward  upheaval,  said :  "Good-bye,  Til  Missus ;  we 
hates  to  gib  you  up,  but  we'll  all  be  wid  you  on  de 
resurrection  mawnin'." 


Chapter  Two 
CHRISTMAS  IN  BUCKS  POCKET 

YES,  there  is  a  Bucks  Pocket,  and  it  is  inhabited 
by  real  people.  Not  the  sort  of  people  that  dwell 
in  towns  and  other  centers  of  population,  where 
there  are  railroads,  schools,  and  libraries. 

To  these  our  brethren  of  Bucks  Pocket  would  seem 
a  queer  people,  and  their  world  a  fit  dwelling  place  for 
Rip  Van  Winkle,  so  asleep,  so  benighted,  so  isolated 
were  they. 

True,  they  had  red  blood,  the  purest  Anglo-Saxon 
blood  to  be  found  in  America.  They  also  had  big, 
human  hearts,  and  dimly  they  had  a  belief  that  they 
possessed  souls,  but  of  their  souls  they  were  almost  as 
unconscious  as  their  brethren  and  sisters  who  dwell  in 
the  roaring  towns  and  industrial  centers. 

Few  of  them  could  read  or  write,  and  many  of  them 
had  never  gone  a  day's  journey  from  the  place  of  their 
birth.  They  were  not  only  ignorant,  but  narrow,  sus- 
picious, and  superstitious.  Of  strangers  they  were 
afraid ;  for  new  ideas  or  innovations  they  had  no  use. 

When  once  you  gained  their  confidence,  they  trusted 
you  as  implicitly  as  little  children. 

Their  idea  of  Christmas  was  crude,  almost  barbarous, 
and  it  is  no  wonder  that  in  this  pocket  in  the  moun- 
tains, the  celebration  of  our  Savior's  nativity  should 
have  been  quite  different  from  the  one  taking  place  at 
the  same  time,  the  same  night,  in  the  home  of  the 
Wares,  in  the  heart  of  the  Cumberlands,  several  hun- 
dred miles  away. 

22 


Christmas  in  Bucks  Pocket  23 

Cliff  Anderson  was  the  ruling  spirit  of  Bucks  Pocket. 
He  was  called  by  every  one  "Cap"  Anderson,  but  few 
could  tell  you  the  reason  for  this.  If  he  had  been  ques- 
tioned closely,  he  might,  reluctantly,  have  told  his 
inquisitor  that  he  had  been  offered  a  captain's  commis- 
sion in  the  Confederate  army  for  gallant  and  distin- 
guished services,  but  declined  because  he  could  neither 
read  nor  write,  but  his  devoted  comrades  in  arms 
dubbed  him  "Captain,"  and  ever  afterward  persisted  in 
addressing  him  by  that  appellation. 

On  the  other  hand,  if  he  had  not  "taken  a  shine"  to 
his  questioner,  he  would  probably  have  replied  gruffly : 
"It's  none  of  your  durned  business." 

He  was  a  large  man,  two  or  three  inches  above  six 
feet,  with  broad  shoulders,  a  massive  head,  surmounted 
by  a  thick  growth  of  iron-gray  hair,  a  grizzly  mustache 
and  imperial,  steel-gray  eyes,  cold,  cruel,  unflinching 
in  the  presence  of  an  enemy,  but  capable  of  softness 
and  sympathy  when  confronted  by  a  woman  in  distress 
or  a  child  in  tears. 

He  was  known  far  and  wide  as  the  "King  of  the 
Wild  Catters,"  and  his  corn  whisky  was  noted  for  its 
purity  wherever  the  name  of  "Cap"  Anderson  was 
spoken.  The  revenue  officers  occasionally  made  raids 
in  Bucks  Pocket,  and  sometimes  captured  a  crude  still, 
but  they  never  could  find  an  owner.  It  was  a  common 
belief  that  these  crude  outfits  were  "planted"  from  time 
to  time  by  the  "revenoos"  so  that  they  could  make  a 
show  of  raiding  Bucks  Pocket  and  destroying  "wild 
cat"  operations. 

Be  that  as  it  may,  it  is  certain  that  they  never  found 
"Cap"  Anderson's  distillery,  or  came  near  it,  so  far  as 
any  one  knew.  It  was  a  thoroughly  equipped,  modern 
affair,  with  a  large  capacity  for  a  "wild  cat"  outfit,  and 


24  Peggy    Ware 

its  owner  prided  himself  on  making  the  best  liquor  to 
be  had  anywhere. 

When  a  man  was  offered  a  drink  out  of  his  friend's 
bottle  and  told  that  it  was  "Anderson's  'pizen',"  he 
knew  that  no  purer  "pizen"  was  ever  distilled,  and 
that  it  had  fewer  rights  and  headaches  to  the  gallon 
than  any  other  brand. 

A  fit  companion  for  Cliff  Anderson  was  his  wife, 
Molly.  She,  too,  was  a  product  of  the  mountains, 
and,  like  him,  had  no  "book  larnin'."  In  fact,  the 
only  book  she  had  ever  seen  was  a  Bible  carried  by 
the  "Hard  Shell"  preacher  who  came  once  a  month 
to  preach  in  an  old  tumbledown  log  house  in  the 
"Pocket"  called  the  "church."  On  his  monthly  visits 
he  usually  stopped  at  the  home  of  the  Anderson's, 
where  he  reported  the  news  of  the  activities  of  the 
"revenoos"  in  the  outside  world,  and  for  his  kindness 
he  would  carry  away  in  one  side  of  his  saddlebags 
several  bottles  of  Anderson's  "mountain  dew,"  while 
his  Bible  rested  securely  on  the  other  side. 

If  there  were  any  other  books  in  the  world,  Molly 
Anderson  had  never  heard  of  them,  but  she  did  know 
that  there  were  almanacs,  for  Cliff  got  one  every 
Spring  so  that  she  could  tell  when  the  moon  was  right 
for  planting  her  garden,  and  it  was  one  of  the  duties 
of  the  "hard  shell"  preacher,  on  his  monthly  visits,  to 
look  up  the  proper  time  of  the  moon  for  planting,  also 
for  hog  killing,  making  boards,  laying  the  worm  of 
rail  fences,  and  many  other  things  that  would  be  a 
failure  if  not  done  "in  the  moon." 

Molly  was  rather  small,  with  a  kindly  face,  but 
firm  jaw,  dark  red  hair,  deep  brown  eyes,  and  her 
step  was  firm  and  vigorous.  She  was  the  only  person 
in  Bucks  Pocket  who  dared  approach  Cliff  Anderson 
when  he  was  in  a  towering  rage,  which,  to  his  credit 


Christmas  in  Bucks  Pocket  25 

be  it  said,  did  not  occur  often,  and  then  not  without 
sufficient  provocation. 

Completing  the  Anderson  family,  the  youngest  but 
by  no  means  the  least  interesting,  was  Ruth  Anderson, 
the  eighteen-year-old  daughter.  She  was  the  acknowl- 
edged belle  of  Bucks  Pocket.  In  fact,  she  held  sway 
as  queen  over  a  much  wider  territory. 

Young  gentlemen  with  an  eye  to  perfect  beauty  and 
matrimonially  inclined,  came  from  the  neighboring 
county-seat  towns  to  offer  themselves  upon  the  altar 
of  matrimony,  but  their  generous  sacrifices  were  mag- 
nanimously declined. 

The  most  persistent  suitor  was  Bud  Whitman,  a 
native  son  of  Bucks  Pocket.  He  had  grown  up  with 
Ruth  Anderson  and  had  always  intended  to  appro- 
priate her  when  he  was  "good  and  ready." 

Ruth  resembled  neither  her  father  nor  mother.  Her 
olive  complexion,  her  brown  eyes  and  raven  black 
hair,  her  arched  eyebrows,  her  finely  chiseled  face 
and  perfect  figure  did  not  seem  to  be  indigenous  to 
Bucks  Pocket.  As  she  grew  to  womanhood  she  felt  a 
longing  for  something  so  lacking  in  her  own  life,  and 
yet  she  could  not  give  a  name  to  it. 

There  were  no  schools  in  Bucks  Pocket,  and  while 
her  father  could  have  sent  her  away  to  school,  he 
sturdily  refused  to  do  so.  He  and  his  wife  had  en- 
gaged in  many  stormy  scenes  about  it,  Mrs.  Anderson 
insisting  that  Ruth  should  have  "book  larnin',"  what- 
ever that  might  mean ;  but  Cliff  Anderson  was  ada- 
mant on  this  point.  He  never  allowed  Ruth  to  go 
away  from  home  unless  she  was  accompanied  by  him 
or  her  mother,  and  always  demanded  that  she  return 
by  night  fall. 

His  devotion  to  her  was  remarkable,  and  she  had 
never  known  an  unkind  word  from  him,  but  she  always 
stood  in  awe  of  the  great,  grizzled  old  warrior,  for  she 


26  Peggy    Ware; 

knew  that  beneath  all  his  kindness  to  her  there  lurked 
a  sleeping-  lion,  perhaps  a  devil.  Whatever  the  mo- 
tives of  the  father  may  have  been  for  wanting  to  keep 
his  daughter  ignorant  of  "book  larnin',"  he  kept  to 
himself,  and  unless  he  sees  fit  to  tell  some  one  who 
shall  disclos.e  it  we  may  never  know. 

At  any  rate,  this  was  the  "status"  of  the  Anderson 
family  on  the  Christmas  eve  in  question  when  all  the 
lads  and  lassies  of  Bucks  Pocket  assembled  at  the 
home  of  "Cap"  Anderson  for  a  Christmas  celebration. 
Some  few  came  by  special  invitation  from  the  outside 
world,  but  the  pickets  at  the  entrance  to  the  Pocket 
made  sure  that  no  suspicious  "revenoo"  spy  passed 
into  the  Pocket  on  this,  the  greatest  night  of  the  year. 

Ah,  yes,  about  this  Bucks  Pocket.  It  is  a  strange, 
wild  freak  of  nature  on  the  west  side  of  Sand  Moun- 
tain in  North  Alabama.  The  earth  seems  to  have 
dropped  down  several  hundred  feet,  leaving  sheer 
rock  walls  on  three  sides  hundreds  of  feet  high.  At 
the  bottom  of  the  Pocket  there  are  thousands  of  acres 
of  fertile  land,  heavily  timbered  with  giant  white  oak, 
hickory,  poplar,  and  pine  trees.  Sauty  Creek  flows 
along  on  the  top  of  Sand  Mountain,  which  is  a  rolling 
plateau  about  twenty  miles  wide,  until  it  reaches  Bucks 
Pocket,  where  it  abruptly  plunges  over  the  cliff  and 
dashes,  a  Niagara  in  minature,  into  the  pocket,  or 
valley,  hundreds  of  feet  below.  It  then  rushes  furi- 
ously through  the  Pocket,  dashing  in  dangerous  rapids 
until  it  reaches  the  Tennessee  river,  where  it  is  lost 
in  the  muddy  waters  of  this  historic  stream. 

On  the  three  walled  sides  there  is  but  one  entrance 
through  a  narrow,  rocky  defile,  which  has  been  made 
into  a  road  so  that  a  team  of  oxen  can  draw  a  wagon 
filled  with  barrels  containing  Anderson's  "best." 

The  corn  from  which  "Cap"  Anderson  distils  his 
famous  whisky  is  brought  in  from  the  Tennessee  River 


Christmas  in  Bucks  Pocket  27 

Valley,  entered  from  the  open  side  of  the  Pocket.  At 
strategic  points  on  this  open  side  there  are  cabins 
where  henchmen  of  Anderson  live,  who  run  the  block- 
ade for  him  and  keep  him  informed  by  "grapevine"' 
telegraph  if  any  suspicious  characters  are  seen  lurking 
in  the  neighborhood  who  require  attention. 

When  the  guests  were  assembled  and  the  master 
of  ceremonies,  who  was  none  other  than  our  friend 
Bud  Whitman,  announced  that  it  was  time  to  "cut  'em 
loose,"  it  was  perfectly  safe  to  assume  that  there  were 
no  "strangers  within  the  gates,"  but  that  each  one 
present  could  qualify  for  a  place  in  the  fold. 

How  they  did  "cut  'em  loose"  on  this  particular 
Christmas  eve  has  not  yet  been  forgotten  in  Bucks 
Pocket.  Most  of  the  men  had  imbibed  freely  of  "Cap" 
Anderson's  honest  corn  juice,  and  it  brought  out  in 
each  his  hidden  proclivities.  The  women,  also,  were 
not  averse  to  an  occasional  sip,  as  it  was  eminently 
respectable  to  manufacture  the  joy  producer,  provided 
you  were  not  haled  into  Uncle  Sam's  court,  and  also  to 
drink  it  whenever  and  wherever  you  desired. 

Almost  every  one  in  Bucks  Pocket  drank,  the  nota- 
ble exceptions  being  Cliff  Anderson,  his  wife,  and 
daughter.  However,  they  did  not  discourage  drinking 
in  others,  for  it  was  a  source  of  revenue  to  the  Ander- 
son household,  and  Anderson's  philosophy  was  that  if 
you  had  it  in  your  system  you  had  better  drive  it  out 
with  pure  liquor  than  in  some  other  way. 

Bucks  Pocket  had  some  noted  fiddlers  of  the  back- 
woods variety,  and  a  few  slugs  of  the  pure  juice  of 
the  corn  added  a  wonderful  skill  to  their  manipulations 
of  the  bow.  How  the  fiddles  did  talk!  You  could 
see  the  principals  engaged  in  conversation  when  they 
struck  up  the  "Arkansas  Traveler,"  and  visions  of  a 
burning  forest  filled  the  fancy  when  they  began  to 
scream  forth:     "Fire  in  the  Mountains,"  and  brogan 


28  Peggy    Wars 

shoes  clattered  on  the  puncheon  floor  as  hearts  beat 
warm  and  passionate  against  brown  jeans  and  home- 
made linsey. 

Someone  had  hung  a  bunch  of  mistletoe  on  one  side 
of  the  great  room,  and  when  some  big  husky  swain 
felt  the  warm  breath  and  gripping  hand  pressure  of 
his  partner,  and  saw  in  the  sparkling  eyes  a  banter, 
as  if  she  were  saying:  "I  dare  you  to  do  it,"  he  would 
swing  her  quite  unresisting  beneath  the  mistletoe,  and 
then  exact  the  penalty  by  planting  on  her  red  lips  or 
rosy  cheeks  a  resounding  kiss,  as  the  others  gave  their 
approval  by  shouts  and  loud  clapping  of  their  hands. 

Bud  Whitman  "called  the  figures,"  as  they  danced 
the  old  Virginia  reel  and  other  old-fashioned  dances, 
the  only  dances  in  which  they  were  skilled.  He  was 
a  past-master  at  the  art,  and  in  all  his  glory  when 
engaged  in  the  performance  of  this  proud  function. 
He  had  a  voice  like  a  fog-horn,  and  the  more  he 
"called,"  and  the  more  he  drank,  the  more  sonorous  his 
voice  grew,  and  the  more  animated  his  actions.  His 
whole  body  was  in  rhythm  with  the  music.  He  swayed 
from  side  to  side,  patting  with  his  two  big  hands  and 
also  with  his  foot,  all  in  perfect  time,  as  he  called 
"Honah  yo'  pardners,"  "All  promenade,"  and  so  on 
through  the  "set." 

A  half  barrel  filled  with  some  of  Anderson's  two- 
year-old  "corn"  sat  in  the  corner  of  the  room,  the  head 
knocked  out,  so  that  when  a  dancer  wanted  to  appease 
his  thirst,  he  simply  took  one  of  the  tin  half-pint  cups 
hung  on  a  row  of  nails  driven  into  the  barrel  and 
helped  himself.  No  water  was  permissible  to  be  drunk 
either  with  the  whiskey  to  dilute  it,  or  afterward  as  a 
"chaser."  It  would  have  been  a  sign  of  weakness 
which  even  the  ladies  scorned  to  exhibit. 

"Take  'er  straight,  boys  an'  gals;  take  'er  straight" 


Christmas  in  Bucks  Pocket  29 

Bud  would  shout,  and  no  one  would  have  thought  of 
disobeying. 

Bud  had  bought  a  pair  of  high-heeled,  red-topped 
boots  for  the  occasion,  and  was  rigged  out  in  his  best 
homespun,  with  a  store-bought  red  bandana  hand- 
kerchief around  his  neck.  He  was  very  proud  of  his 
appearance,  for  he  wanted  to  suitably  impress  Ruth 
Anderson  with  his  good  looks  as  well  as  his  import- 
ance, for  he  had  about  made  up  his  mind  to  inform 
her  that  he  was  going  to  marry  her  before  very  long, 
not  doubting  that  she  would  be  only  too  eager  to 
accept. 

Ruth's  heart  never  seemed  to  be  in  these  wild  dances, 
nor  did  she  enjoy  the  ribald  jests  of  the  half  drunken 
guests ;  perhaps  it  was  because  she  had  not  imbibed 
the  "overjoyful"  in  the  barrel  in  the  corner  of  the 
room,  or  maybe  it  was  an  innate  feeling  of  refinement 
not  possesed  by  the  others. 

As  the  hours  went  by  and  the  revellers  became  more 
boisterous,  a  feeling  of  loathing  for  her  surroundings 
and  associates  took  possession  of  her,  and  she  would 
have  fled  from  the  room,  but  she  knew  that  her  father 
would  be  offended,  for  he  was  punctilious  upon  the 
point  that  his  guests  should  always  be  accorded  every 
courtesy.  He  and  his  wife  frequently  looked  in  on  the 
young  people,  and  smiled  their  approval. 

Bud  was  now  feeling  that  the  world  was  his,  and 
he  seized  Ruth  and  said : 

"You  are  my  pardner  fur  the  next  set,"  and  she 
yielded  because  she  did  not  want  to  anger  him.  Madly 
he  whirled  her  round  and  round,  as  the  fiddles  fairly 
shrieked,  and  the  other  dancers  stopped  as  the  pair 
drew  nearer  and  nearer  to  the  overhanging  mistletoe. 
At  first  Ruth  did  not  discern  his  purpose,  but  suddenly 
it  dawned  on  her  that  Bud  intended  to  get  her  under 


30  Peggy    Ware 

the  mistletoe  and  kiss  her.  A  feeling  of  anger,  indig- 
nation and  loathing  swept  over  her,  and  she  tried  to 
break  away  from  him,  but  he  held  her  as  easily  as  a 
big  grizzly  bear  could  have  done.  Realizing  her  help- 
lessness in  his  embrace,  she  said:  "Please  don't;  I'll 
hate  you  always  if  you  do !"  His  answer  was  a  big, 
coarse  guffaw  that  caused  the  hot  blood  to  mantle  her 
cheeks  and  her  eyes  to  blaze.  The  next  moment  he 
swung  her  under  the  mistletoe  and  began  to  rain  hot, 
drunken,  passionate  kisses  on  her  lips,  holding  her  as 
in  a  vice,  while  everyone  shouted  and  urged  him  on. 
With  the  energy  of  despair,  Ruth,  with  her  free  hand, 
began  to  scratch  his  face  like  some  wild  animal,  the 
blood  flowing  from  the  wounds,  and  then  by  one 
mighty  effort  she  wrenched  herself  free  and,  as  he  came 
toward  her  to  seize  her  again,  she  dealt  him  one  ter- 
rific blow  with  all  her  might  on  his  nose,  and  the 
blood  gushed  from  his  nostrils  in  two  healthy  streams. 

No  wounded  bull  in  the  arena  ever  bellowed  more 
hoarsely  or  struck  out  more  blindly  than  did  the  half- 
drunken,  humiliated  Bud,  now  a  potential  beast  him- 
self. He  was  the  bully  of  Bucks  Pocket.  Almost 
every  young  fellow  present  had  suffered  some  indignity 
at  his  hand,  and  when  Ruth  dealt  him  the  blow  that 
brought  the  blood,  as  some  unsympathetic  bystander 
said,  "like  a  stuck  hog,"  it  is  little  wonder  that  every 
one  rejoiced  at  his  humiliation. 

Blinded  with  rage,  the  blood  filling  his  mouth  and 
eyes,  forgetting  that  his  antagonist  was  a  woman,  and 
the  woman  that  he  had  determined  to  make  his  wife, 
he  struck  her  a  cruel  blow  and  she  reeled  and  would 
have  fallen  to  the  floor,  if  she  had  not  recovered  by 
throwing  out  her  hands  and  striking  the  wall  of  the 
house. 

Cliff  Anderson  had  come  to  the  doorway  just  in  time 


Christmas  in  Bucks  Pocket  31 

to  see  the  drunken  bully  strike  Ruth,  and  with  one 
bound  he  crossed  the  room,  dealt  him  a  terrible  blow, 
as  he  said  between  his  clenched  teeth :  "By  God,  I'll 
kill  you  !" 

Whitman  fell  to  the  floor  like  a  log,  but  only  for  a 
moment.  Rising  to  his  knees  he  pulled  a  revolver 
from  his  hip  pocket  and  was  in  the  act  of  firing  when 
someone  knocked  it  from  his  hand,  and  a  dozen  strong 
men  seized  and  overpowered  him.  As  they  dragged 
him  from  the  room  he  filled  the  amosphere  with  his 
curses  and  threats.  "I'll  git  even  with  you;  I'll  kill 
you,  if  it  takes  me  ten  years !''  he  shouted  hoarsely,  as 
his  voice  died  away  in  the  distance. 

The  dance  was  over,  and  it  had  come  near  being  a 
"dance  of  death." 

Christmas  day  a  few  choice  spirits  gathered  at  An- 
derson's distillery  and  discussed  the  events  of  the  pre- 
vious night.  They  warned  Anderson  to  be  careful,  as 
Bud  Whitman  was  a  bad  man,  and  would  never  rest 
until  he  had  made  his  threat  good.  As  they  discussed 
the  incident  and  drank  to  the  health  of  the  King  of 
the  Wild  Catters,  the  firing  of  big  guns  could  be  heard 
coming  from  various  parts  of  the  Pocket.  To  a  new- 
comer it  would  have  meant  the  approach  of  an  army  of 
"revenoos,"  or  a  battle  between  contending  feudists; 
but  to  the  old  timer  it  meant  the  celebration  of 
Christmas. 

In  this  out  of  the  way  spot,  in  this  year  of  grace, 
where  there  were  no  schools,  no  churches,  the  dwellers 
hailed  the  day  that  brought  "peace  on  earth,  good  will 
to  men"  by  the  firing  of  murderous  guns  and  the  drink- 
ing of  contraband  whiskey. 

Do  not  condemn  them,  for  they  are  the  product  of 
conditions  over  which  they  have  had  little  or  no  con- 
trol, and  when  their  Moses  comes,  as  come  he  must  to 


32  Peggy    Ware; 

every  soul,  who  knows  but  what  Bucks  Pocket  may 
become  a  beacon  light  to  the  more  highly  developed 
communities. 

Who  knows,  or  who  can  tell  what  mysterious  spir- 
itual forces  were  at  work  to  bring  these  benighted 
people  into. a  life  of  great  and  wonderful  fullness. 

Then  judge  them  not,  those  of  you  whose  "lives  have 
been  cast  in  pleasant  places,"  for  you  cannot  put  your- 
self in  their  places,  and  therefore  you  are  not  prepared 
to  judge.  Perhaps  when  this  story  is  told  and  "finis" 
has  been  written,  you  will  feel  that  you  have  played 
a  poor  second  to  the  dwellers  in  Bucks  Pocket. 


Chapter  Three 
EARTH  TO  EARTH 

QUIETLY  Simon  stepped  out  of  the  presence  of 
death.  The  weakness,  helplessness,  and  despair 
of  the  other  members  of  the  Ware  family  was 
his  strength.  All  the  days  of  his  life  he  had  never 
thought  of  himself,  but  he  lived,  thought,  and  planned 
for  others.  Simon  had  crucified  self  so  long  ago  that 
he  rarely  remembered  him.  Now,  as  always,  he  forgot 
his  own  grief  in  his  deeper  grief  for  Wilbur  Ware, 
Peggy,  Ralph,  and  Virginia.  Gladly  would  he  have 
borne  all  their  griefs,  if  he  could.  Joyfully  would  he 
have  lain  down  his  own  life,  if  he  could  have  brought 
"Young  Missus"  back  and  have  restored  her  to  health 
and  the  bosom  of  her  family. 

He  went  to  the  nearest  neighbor  and  told  the  tragic 
news,  and  in  a  little  while  it  spread  throughout  the 
settlement,  and  the  neighbors  gathered  in  as  they  do 
in  the  rural  communities  in  the  South,  and  the  women 
mingled  their  tears  with  those  of  the  heart-broken 
children,  while  the  men,  ashamed  to  show  such  wom- 
anly weakness,  walked  away  from  the  scene  of  grief, 
and  gazed  toward  the  snow-clad  peaks  in  the  distance. 

One  motherly  soul  carried  Ralph  and  Virginia  to 
her  home,  but  Peggy  refused  to  leave  the  presence  of 
her  mother  for  a  moment. 

Some  of  the  men  tried  to  address  Wilbur  Ware,  but 
his  speech  and  manner  repelled  all  advances.  He  even 
spoke  harshly  to  Peggy  as  she  placed  her  arms  about 

33 


34  Peggy    Ware 

him  in  her  grief,  craving  his  sympathy  and  tenderness. 
He  would  give  no  instruction  about  the  funeral,  except 
to  say  with  what  sounded  like  an  oath  that  "no  preacher 
should  officiate  at  the  grave."  This  was  in  answer  to 
a  suggestion  from  one  of  the  men  that  he  would  go  to 
the  nearest  town,  some  twenty  miles  away,  and  get  a 
minister. 

To  Peggy's  pleading  he  was  obdurate,  and  even 
brutal,  and  sensing  a  great  mental  reaction  in  her 
father,  she  became  alarmed  for  his  reason.  Indeed  it 
seemed  to  everyone  that  in  his  eyes  there  was  the  look 
of  the  madman. 

Simon  went  with  some  of  the  neighbors  and  selected 
a  spot  in  the  graveyard  adjoining  the  church  where 
Wilbur  Ware  had  been  the  shepherd  of  the  sheep  for 
five  years.  It  was  on  a  little  knoll,  and  they  shoveled 
away  the  snow  before  they  could  begin  to  dig  the 
frozen  earth. 

While  the  grave  was  being  dug,  others  made  a  coffin 
from  wide  pine  boards  that  some  one  in  the  community 
always  had  on  hand  for  the  visits  of  the  grim  reaper. 
Someone  suggested  that  so  fine  a  lady  as  Mrs.  Ware 
deserved  something  more  than  a  plain  box,  and  after 
much  consultation  it  was  decided  that  one  of  the 
women  who  had  a  black  satin  dress  that  belonged  to 
her  mother  back  in  old  "Virginny,"  before  the  war, 
should  cut  it  up  and  use  it  to  cover  the  coffin,  a  mark 
of  unusual  respect  to  the  beloved  wife  of  their  pastor. 

All  that  day  and  through  the  long  night,  Wilbur 
Ware  sat  gazing  into  vacancy,  never  uttering  a  word, 
while  the  others  "sitting  up  with  the  corpse"  talked  in 
whispers. 

Simon  was  everywhere,  answering  questions,  giving 
directions,  occasionally  consulting  with  Peggy,  and 
anon   bringing  in   hickory   logs   and   replenishing   the 


Earth  to  Earth  35 

fire  in  the  great  wide-mouthed  fireplace.  At  stated 
intervals  he  would  pass  around  cups  of  coffee  from  the 
steaming  hot  coffee  pot  to  help  the  watchers  to  "keep 
awake." 

The  interminable  night  came  to  an  end  at  last,  and 
as  the  first  streaks  of  dawn  fell  athwart  the  winter 
landscape,  some  of  the  neighbor  women  came  to  relieve 
the  watchers,  who  went  home  to  snatch  a  little  sleep 
before  the  funeral,  while  breakfast  was  prepared  in  an 
adjoining  room  by  some  of  the  kindly  souls. 

As  for  Simon,  he  said:  "I'll  jest  snatch  a  few  bites 
as  I  go  ovah  to  de  church,  an'  see  ef  de  grabe  am 
ready." 

The  snowstorm  had  increased  with  the  night,  and 
the  snow  lay  thick  upon  the  ground,  and  every  tree  and 
bush  wore  a  heavy  mantle. 

The  time  for  the  funeral  arrived,  and  the  pall  bearers 
carried  the  coffin  containing  the  mortaLremains  of  Mrs. 
Ware  and  placed  it  in  a  wagon  drawn  by  a  team  of 
mules.  There  were  not  many  mule  teams  in  the  com- 
munity, but  as  a  mark  of  distinguished  respect,  Gabe 
Houston  had  come  ten  miles  with  his  spanking  team 
so  that  the  remains  would  not  have  to  be  drawn  by  a 
yoke  of  oxen.  He  drove  proudly  at  the  head  of  the 
procession,  which  was  followed  by  ox  wagons  and  per- 
sons on  foot,  and  thus  they  marched  to  the  graveyard 
a  mile  away,  Wilbur  Ware  refusing  to  ride,  but  walk- 
ing in  stony  silence  behind  the  wagon  which  was 
bearing  to  its  last  resting  place  the  one  human  being 
that  had  helped  him  to  keep  his  hold  on  God ;  and  now 
that  hold  was  broken,  and  faith  was  dead,  and  hope 
buried. 

By  the  time  they  reached  the  open  grave  the  snow 
was  falling  in  blinding  sheets,  filling  the  men's  eyes 
so  that  they  could  scarcely  find  their  way  as  they  bore 


36  Peggy    W  are 

the  coffin  from  the  wagon  to  the  grave.  Without  a 
word  they  lowered  it  to  where  it  was  to  remain  as  the 
countless  ages  roll  by,  and  with  bared  heads  stood 
back,  looking  helplessly  toward  each  other,  and  then 
toward  their  pastor,  whom  they  now  regarded  almost 
in  horror. 

Was  no  word  to  be  spoken,  no  prayer  to  be  offered? 
There  was  no  answer  to  their  mute  appeal  save  the 
sobbing  of  Peggy  and  the  women  and  of  the  pathetic 
calls  of  Ralph  and  Virginia  for  "Mother."  Finally  the 
suspense  became  unbearable,  and  Wilbur  Ware,  in  a 
harsh,  unnatural  voice,  said:  "Fill  up  the  grave." 
Unable  to  restrain  herself  longer,  Peggy,  looking 
around  with  untold  agony  in  her  face,  said : 

"Won't  someone  please  say  a  word  or  offer  a  prayer?" 

No  one  budged.  These  hardy  mountaineers  could 
brave  all  kinds  of  weather,  undergo  untold  hardships, 
even  fight  an  enemy  to  the  death,  but  not  one  of  them 
could  face  this  ordeal.  Two  or  three  of  the  women 
nudged  their  husbands,  urging  them  in  whispers,  but 
to  no  avail.  Again  Wilbur  Ware  said:  "Fill  up  the 
grave,"  and  the  men  gathered  up  their  shovels  to  be- 
gin, but  Peggy  stretched  out  her  hands  toward  Simon, 
who  stood  with  bowed  head,  the  wind  playing  with 
his  white  locks,  and  brokenly,  pleadingly,  said :  "Si- 
mon !"  Not  another  word  came  from  her  lips,  and  all 
waited  breathless.  Then  solemnly,  reverently,  with 
the  halo  of  a  saint  about  his  white  head,  as  some  of 
these  present  used  to  declare  long  after  he  had  gone 
to  his  reward,  Simon  said : 

"White  folks,  you  won't  mind  ef  an  ig'nant  old  nig- 
ger says  a  few  words  at  de  grabe  ob  his  'young  missus,' 
will  you?" 

"You  knowse,  I  toted  her  in  my  ahms  when  she  wus 
a  tiny  li'l  baby,  and  den  I  learn  her  how  to  walk,  an' 


Earth  to  Earth  37 

I  nevah  seed  de  day  when  I  wouldn't  lay  down  my 
life  fer  her. 

"Befo'  de  wah  I  belonged  to  her  fathah,  Captain 
Lee,  an'  he  an'  ole  Missus  was  des  as  good  to  me  as 
dey  wus  to  da  own  chile.  Dey  all  teached  me  to  lub 
God,  an'  dat  God  lubed  me.  An'  I  goin'  to  say  heah 
dat  I  feel  His  love  mo'  pow'ful  as  I  Stan'  by  her  grabe 
dan  I  evah  did  befo'.  I  don't  know  nothin'  erbout 
'ologies,'  but  I  know  dat  God  am  heah  and  dat  'young 
missus'  ain't  lyin'  in  dat  col'  frozen  groun',  but  dat 
she  is  in  de  sunburst  ob  glory  wid  Jesus.  De  house 
she  libed  in  is  lyin'  dar,  but  her  soul  is  free,  an'  she 
is  eberywhah.  She  is  wid  God  an'  Jesus,  an'  she  is 
heah  wid  us,  too,  and  she  gwine  back  home  wid  Massa 
Ware  an'  de  blessed  chilluns,  an'  she  gwine  to  be  a 
light  to  guide  dar  feet  into  de  mos'  wonderful  ways. 
An'  somehow,  somehow,"  here  his  voice  broke,  and 
it  seemed  that  he  could  never  go  on,  and  the  great 
tears  testified  to  his  emotion,  "some  day  she  gwine  to 
lead  him,"  pointing  to  the  broken,  helpless  preacher, 
"back  to  God,  cause  it  gwine  to  be  an  unbroken  fam- 
bly  when  dey  all  git  over  yondah,  and  Simon  gwine  to 
be  dar,  too." 

The  old  wrinkled,  black  face  was  lighted  by  some 
spiritual  fire  from  within,  and  all  felt  that  they  stood 
in  the  presence  of  a  great  soul,  although  housed  in  a 
black  body,  and  as  the  old  negro  finished,  all  bowed 
their  heads  in  silent  prayer  to  God,  who  did  not  seem 
far  off  in  His  heavens,  but  here  in  their  midst. 

Silently  they  filled  the  grave,  placed  a  plank  slab 
at  the  head  and  another  at  the  foot,  and  still  without 
speaking  a  word,  the  procession  took  up  the  return 
march. 

Within  a  week  after  the  burial  of  the  wife  and 
mother,  Wilbur  Ware  had  disposed  of  his  earthly  pos- 


38  Peggy    Ware 

sessions,  bought  a  wagon  and  yoke  of  oxen,  and  an- 
nounced that  he  had  given  up  the  ministry  forever,  and 
was  going  to  the  mountains  of  North  Alabama,  where 
he  could  homestead  a  hundred  and  sixty  acres  of  land, 
on  which  he  proposed  to  settle  and  build  a  home. 

Peggy  was  too  stunned  by  the  death  of  her  mother 
and  the  condition  of  her  father  to  ask  any  questions 
or  make  any  objection.  Ralph  and  Virginia  were 
enthusiastic  over  the  thought  of  traveling  through  the 
country  in  a  covered  wagon.  Eagerly  they  discussed 
the  possibility  of  passing  through  cities,  seeing  rail- 
roads and  trains,  and  boys  and  girls  dressed  in  "store 
clothes." 

As  for  Simon,  he  was  ready  to  follow  wherever  the 
Wares  went,  and  his  only  thought  was  for  their  com- 
fort and  welfare. 

Into  the  wagon  Wilbur  Ware  and  Simon  loaded  such 
of  the  household  goods  as  would  be  absolutely  needed, 
the  furniture  having  been  sold  to  the  neighbors. 

Peggy  put  all  her  books  into  the  wagon  without  a 
protest  from  her  father,  and  looking  ruefully  at  the 
long  shelves  of  theological  works,  she  said :  "Father, 
what  are  you  going  to  do  with  all  your  books?"  She 
knew  that  it  would  require  a  big  wagon  and  stout  yoke 
of  oxen  to  haul  the  books  that  had  cost  her  father  a 
small  fortune  for  a  man  of  his  means.  Without  an- 
swering her  he  began  to  carry  the  heavy  volumes  out 
into  the  yard  where  a  big  log  heap  had  been  built  so 
that  the  large  crowd  of  neighbors  that  had  assembled 
to  tell  the  Wares  goodbye  could  keep  warm,  and  piled 
them  on  the  burning  logs.  Armful  after  armful  he 
threw  on  the  burning  heap,  the  flames  leaping  higher 
at  the  addition  of  each  load. 

The  people  watched,  amazed,  fascinated,  wondering 
what  evil  spirit  could  have  taken  possession  of  their 


Earth  to  Earth  39 

former  pastor  from  whom  they  were  about  to  part, 
perhaps  forever. 

In  his  face  there  was  the  look  of  the  grim  execu- 
tioner, and  Peggy  fled  from  the  tragic  scene,  unable 
to  witness  what  seemed  to  her  her  father's  own  funeral 
pyre,  for  she  would  not  have  been  greatly  surprised 
if  he  had  thrown  himself  on  the  burning  mass  and  per- 
ished with  his  beloved  theological  books. 

Simon,  however,  took  a  different  view  of  the  mat- 
ter, and  with  a  very  solemn  face,  but  a  merry  twinkle 
in  his  eyes,  proposed  to  aid  the  minister  in  his  work. 
No  one  else  interfered,  for  they  all  thought  the  preacher 
insane,  and  one  by  one  they  began  to  withdraw  to  a 
safe  distance.  Simon  muttered  to  himself :  "He  is 
burnin'  up  his  God." 

At  last  the  work  was  completed,  and  all  the  books 
were  on  the  burning  heap,  all  except  Wilbur  Ware's 
well-worn  Bible  and  the  one  that  belonged  to  his 
wife,  and  which  was  presented  to  her  by  her  mother 
on  her  wedding  day.  These  he  seized  and  threw  on 
top  of  the  burning  volumes.  Simon  saw  what  he  had 
done,  and  the  spirit  of  the  crusader  took  the  place  of 
the  spirit  of  the  servant.  Disregarding  the  fierce  lick- 
ing of  the  flames  he  leaped  into  their  midst,  seized  the 
Bibles  as  their  precious  leaves  were  beginning  to 
scorch,  and  with  them  held  tightly  to  his  breast,  he 
brought  them  to  safety.  His  hands  were  terribly 
burned,  his  eyebrows  and  hair  singed,  his  clothing  on 
fire,  but  he  clung  to  the  books  that  contained  for  him 
the  words  of  life,  and  from  which  his  beloved  "missus" 
had  so  often  read  to  him. 

At  this  moment  Peggy  appeared  and  discovered  that 
his  clothing  was  on  fire,  and  began  to  put  it  out,  burn- 
ing her  hands.    "Don't  do  dat,  honey,"  said  he,  "don't 


40  Peggy    Ware 

burn  yoah  little  hans,  fur  it  don't  make  no  difference 
erbout  me  ef  I  should  burn  up." 

Seeing  what  Simon  had  done,  Ware  became  greatly 
enraged  and  tried  to  snatch  the  Bibles  from  him,  but 
for  once  in  his  life  Simon  defied  him. 

"Ah  nevah  disobeyed  you  befo,'  Massa  Ware,  but 
dis  time  ah's  fightin'  fer  youah  soul's  salvation,  an' 
you  can  burn  my  body  'long  wid  you  'ological  books, 
but  you  can't  burn  God's  word  till  you  burn  me !" 

It  was  a  tense  moment.  No  one  present  had  ever 
heard  a  negro  defy  a  white  man  without  being  in- 
stantly struck  down,  and  all  expected  to  see  the  en- 
raged preacher  deal  Simon  a  blow  that  would  render 
the  old  man  helpless.  Ware  drew  back  to  strike,  his 
face  black  with  passion,  but  before  the  blow  could 
descend,  Peggy  shielded  old  Simon  with  her  body,  and 
her  father's  arm  fell  helplessly  to  his  side.  His  face 
twitched  convulsively,  he  reeled  as  though  he  were 
going  to  fall,  then  covering  his  face  with  his  hands,  he 
staggered  toward  the  wagon  now  loaded  and  ready  to 
move,  picked  up  the  lines,  spoke  to  the  oxen,  and  slowly 
drove  away  without  a  single  word  of  goodbye. 

Ralph  and  Virginia  ran  after  the  wagon,  Ralph 
climbing  up  on  the  end  of  the  coupling  pole  from 
which  hung  the  tar  bucket,  and  from  this  point  of  van- 
tage he  reached  down  and  grasped  Virginia's  out-, 
stretched  hands,  drew  her  up  until  she  stood  on  the 
coupling  pole,  and  then  he  climbed  into  the  wagon  and 
pulled  Virginia  in  after  him,  and  they  cuddled  down 
in  the  bed  clothing,  peeping  out  from  the  opening  in 
the  rear  of  the  wagon  cover. 

Peggy  and  Simon  lingered  while  everyone  crowded 
around  to  tell  them  goodbye. 

Although  Simon  was  unwelcome  because  of  his  color 
when  he  first  came  among  them,  and  there  had  been 


Earth  to  Earth  41 

various  and  sundry  threats  of  "white-capping"  him, 
this  feeling  had  passed  away  and  he  was  now  held  in 
the  highest  esteem  by  every  one.  Many  pressed  around 
him  and  gave  his  calloused  hand  a  hearty  grasp  and 
wished  him  Godspeed. 

They  all  loved  Peggy.  She  had  been  the  inspira- 
tion for  the  young  people,  and  a  benediction  to  the 
older  ones.  Now  that  she  was  going  out  of  their  lives 
forever,  they  were  disconsolate,  and  many  expressed 
their  grief  in  loud  lamentations,  while  low  sobs  could 
be  heard  even  among  the  men.  No  funeral  could  have 
been  so  sad.  No  death  in  the  community  had  ever 
brought  such  darkness  as  the  departure  of  Peggy. 
She  tried  to  be  brave.  She  smiled  through  her  tears, 
and  her  face  was  never  more  beautiful,  and  in  the  years 
to  come  that  sweet  image  enshrined  in  the  hearts  of 
these  simple  folk,  lighted  many  a  dark  valley  along 
Life's  journey. 

"I'll  come  back  to  you ;  I'll  come  back,"  she  kept 
saying  as  she  said  goodbye  to  one  after  another.  "I 
love  you,  every  one  of  you,  and  I  feel  in  my  soul  that 
God  will  bring  me  back." 

At  last  she  tore  herself  away  from  the  clinging  peo- 
ple and  followed  Simon,  who  had  preceded  her  up  the 
road  in  the  direction  taken  by  the  wagon.  It  had  al- 
ready disappeared  over  a  distant  hill  top,  and  when 
Peggy  reached  it  she  looked  back,  and  the  crowd  had 
not  dispersed.  Everyone  stood  where  she  had  left 
them,  straining  their  eyes  for  a  last  glimpse  of  the 
one  who  typified  to  them  angelic  sweetness,  sunshine, 
and  joy.  She  waved  them  a  last  farewell,  and  disap- 
peared from  view,  and  the  crowd  silently  began  to  dis- 
perse. Once  out  of  their  sight  she  was  overcome  by 
her  grief,  and  kneeling  at  the  foot  of  a  great  oak  tree, 
she  sobbed  out  her  agony  until  Simon  said  kindly : 


42  Peggy    Ware 

"Come  on,  little  missus,  God  is  guidin'  us,  an'  He 
will  dry  youah  teahs." 

All  the  remainder  of  the  day  the  oxen  plowed  on 
through  the  rocky,  muddy  mountain  road,  Simon  fol- 
lowing behind,  while  Peggy,  at  his  earnest  solicitation, 
had  climbed  into  the  wagon. 

As  the  sun  was  setting,  they  came  to  a  small  stream 
where  Wilbur  Ware  halted  the  tired  oxen,  and  un- 
yoked them,  indicating  that  here  they  would  strike 
camp  for  the  night. 

Simon  took  the  axe  and  cut  some  dead  logs  and 
soon  had  a  roaring  fire,  around  which  they  all  gath- 
ered to  warm  their  half-frozen  hands  and  feet. 

With  the  few  cooking  utensils  they  had  brought, 
Peggy  soon  prepared  a  simple  meal  of  corn  pone,  bacon 
and  eggs,  supplemented  by  a  big  pot  of  steaming  cof- 
fee. The  youngsters,  at  least,  were  ravenously  hungry, 
and  did  full  justice  to  the  meal,  talking  excitedly  and 
enthusiastically  about  the  wonderful  country  they  ex- 
pected to  pass  through  on  the  morrow.  The  others 
ate  sparingly  and  in  silence,  Simon  waiting  until  they 
had  finished,  and  then  taking  his  food  and  going  to 
his  side  of  the  fire,  where  he  ate  slowly  and  thought- 
fully. 

They  had  brought  along  several  sacks  of  "nubbins" 
to  feed  the  oxen,  and  their  contented  crunching  testi- 
fied to  their  appetites. 

The  bleak  winter  wind  caused  them  no  discomfort 
so  long  as  their  stomachs  were  full,  for  nature  had 
given  them  a  covering  that  furnished  ample  protec- 
tion. 

The  flames,  leaping  high  from  the  burning  logs, 
threw  weird  shadows  into  the  surrounding  woods,  and 
Ralph  and  Virginia  enjoyed  the  novelty  of  their  first 
camp  fire. 


Earth  to  Earth  43 

Wilbur  Ware's  demeanor  was  more  normal  as  the 
day  passed.  The  light  of  madness  in  his  eyes  had 
given  place  to  one  of  hopeless  suffering.  The  founda- 
tion on  which  he  had  stood  for  years  had  been  swept 
away,  and  now  he  felt  an  aching  void  that  nothing 
could  ever  fill. 

For  years  it  had  been  his  custom  to  read  from  the 
Bible  and  offer  prayer  before  the  children  retired,  but 
he  felt  that  he  could  never  do  so  again.  To  him  prayer 
would  be  an  empty  mockery,  a  meaningless  jargon  of 
words,  and  he  would  not  further  stultify  himself  by 
engaging  in  something  in  which  he  did  not  believe. 

So  it  was  that  when  the  bedding  had  been  arranged 
in  the  great  wagon  and  Simon  had  placed  his  blankets 
on  a  pile  of  boughs  which  he  had  heaped  near  the 
fire,  Wilbur  Ware  announced  that  inasmuch  as  they 
would  begin  their  journey  at  daybreak  in  the  morn- 
ing all  had  better  retire. 

Wistfully  the  children  looked  at  their  father  and 
at  each  other,  no  one  speaking  until  Virginia  said : 
"Papa,  ain't  you  going  to  pray?  You  always  prayed 
when  mama  was  here.  She's  in  heaven  now,  but  I 
know  she  wants  us  to  pray,  and  she  will  help  us,  too, 
'cause  she  is  with  the  angels,  and  is  right  close  to  God, 
and  he  can  hear  her  when  she  asks  him  to  answer  our 
prayers." 

This  simple  faith  of  "baby"  Virginia  reacted  on  Wil- 
bur Ware  as  nothing  else  had  done.  It  shook  him  to 
the  very  foundation  of  his  being.  He  might  have  ar- 
gued angrily  with  Simon,  or  firmly  with  Peggy ;  even 
Ralph  he  could  have  dismissed  with  some  lame  excuse. 
But  here  was  his  youngest,  his  baby,  looking  at  him 
through  those  great  wide-open  eyes,  piercing  his 
gloomy  soul,  speaking  the  language  of  faith,  of  per- 
fect trust  in  God  in  whom  he  no  longer  believed,  and 


44  Peggy    Ware 

he  found  it  impossible  to  utter  a  word.  With  her  he 
could  not  argue  or  reason.  His  doubts  meant  nothing 
to  her,  for  she  was  still  at  that  age  when  faith  is 
sublime,  when  life  is  all  beauty,  and  everything  in  the 
universe  is  good.  No  truer  saying  did  Christ  ever 
utter  than  that  we  must  become  as  little  children  be- 
fore we  can  enter  the  Kingdom  of  heaven. 

Unable  to  answer  her,  stunned  as  if  by  an  unex- 
pected blow,  the  ex-preacher  arose  from  his  place  by 
the  fire  and  stole  quietly  to  the  wagon,  where  he  slept 
little,  being  haunted  by  the  storm  clouds  of  doubt  and 
unbelief  that  swept  over  his  soul. 

Turning  to  Peggy,  Virginia,  seeming  to  realize  fully 
for  the  first  time  the  terrible  change  in  her  father,  said : 
"Sister,  what  ails  father?     Is  he  afraid  of  God?" 

"Father  is  not  well,  Virginia,  but  he  will  soon  be 
himself  again,"  said  Peggy. 

"Well,  then,"  persisted  Virginia,  "if  he  is  too  sick  to 
pray  how  could  he  walk  all  day  in  the  mud  and  drive 
the  oxen?" 

This  was  too  much  of  a  puzzle  for  Peggy  to  answer, 
and  she  made  no  reply. 

Once  more  the  child's  voice  pleaded:  "If  papa  is 
too  sick  to  pray  to  God,  then  I  think  we  ought  to  pray 
for  him  to  get  well." 

Overcome  by  the  lisping  of  Virginia,  Peggy  burst, 
into  tears  which  she  hastily  brushed  away,  saying: 
"Yes,  Virginia,  we  will  pray  for  our  papa,  and  for  our- 
selves, too,  for  we  need  God  also." 

Then  she  called  Simon  to  come  over  and  sit  with 
them  near  the  fire,  and  in  her  wonderfully  musical 
voice  she  repeated  the  twenty-third  psalm,  which  she 
had  memorized  when  she  was  no  older  than  Ralph. 
Simon  had  heard  it  read  often,  but  it  never  held  out 
such  beautiful  promises  before.     Ralph  and  Virginia 


Earth  to  Earth  45 

felt  that  some  great  shepherd  of  the  forest  sent  by  God 
was  standing  near  by  to  protect  them  from  all  harm. 
Softly,  pleadingly,  but  confidently,  the  words  that  have 
soothed  millions  fell  from  her  lips: 

"The  Lord  is  my  shepherd,  I  shall  not  want.  .  .  . 
Yea,  though  I  walk  through  the  valley  of  the  shadow 
of  death,  I  will  fear  no  evil;  for  thou  art  with  me; 
thy  rod  and  thy  staff  they  comfort  me." 

The  psalm  ended  and  Peggy  knelt,  lifting  her  face 
to  the  wintry  skies  where  gleamed  a  million  stars,  and 
the  others  followed  her  example.  "Our  Heavenly 
Father,"  the  young  voice  quavered,  "we  are  just  thy 
children  lost  in  the  forest,  and  we  need  the  good  shep- 
herd to  guide  us.  Our  dear  father  is  sick  because 
he  has  lost  his  way  since  mother  left  us.  His  sick- 
ness blinds  him  so  he  cannot  see  your  face.  Oh,  won't 
you  take  him  by  the  hand  and  lead  him,  and  all  of  us 
in  thy  way?     Amen." 

Peace,  peace,  unspeakable,  filled  the  hearts  of  these 
simple  worshippers,  while  the  fires  of  doubt  and  un- 
belief raged  in  the  soul  of  Wilbur  Ware.  No  ma- 
terial hell  with  its  fiery,  brimstone  billows,  its  burn- 
ing, quenchless  thirst,  could  ever  equal  in  suffering 
the  anguish  of  the  storm-tossed  soul  that  has  lost  its 
faith  in  God.  No  Stygian  darkness  was  ever  one-half 
so  black  as  the  murky  pall  that  settles  over  the  man 
who  says  "there  is  no  God,  no  soul,  no  spiritual  life." 

And  for  the  man  who  has  once  climbed  to  some  lofty 
peak  of  life  and  viewed  the  promised  land  from  afar, 
and  turned  back  to  wallowing  in  the  mire  of  material 
things,  thinking  that  the  flesh  pots  can  satisfy,  there 
is  no  pictured  hell  of  Dante's  Inferno  that  can  ever  hold 
for  him  the  suffering  to  which  he  is  doomed  by  his 
own  act  of  closing  his  eyes  to  the  celestial  vision. 

That  night  Peggy  had  a  marvelous  dream,  and  in 


46  Peggy    Ware 

the  years  that  followed,  it  was  always  present  with 
her.  She  dreamed  that  at  the  end  of  their  journey, 
they  came  to  a  place  in  the  mountain  where  a  stream 
of  water  leaped  over  a  precipice  into  a  narrow,  rock- 
walled  valley  below,  and  that  there  was  a  rough,  wind- 
ing road  descending  into  this  valley  from  which  she 
could  see  the  smoke  ascending  from  the  cabins.  When 
her  father  would  have  passed  on,  she  saw  her  mother 
beckoning  to  her  father  to  follow  the  winding  road 
into  the  valley,  but  he  did  not  see  her. 

Peggy  cried  to  her  father  to  look,  but  he  was  so 
blinded  for  some  reason  he  could  not  see,  and  was 
driving  in  another  direction.  Then  her  mother  showed 
great  agitation,  earnestly  pointing  in  the  direction  of 
the  valley  lying  far  below.  Peggy,  greatly  distressed 
because  of  her  father's  blindness,  insisted  so  earnestly 
that  he  turned  the  oxen's  head  and  entered  the  mys- 
terious valley. 

It  was  a  new  world  to  Peggy.  She  had  lived  among 
mountain  people,  but  not  like  these.  Nowhere  did  she 
see  a  school  or  church,  but  there  were  drunken  men 
and  wild  revelry.  Many  of  the  women  were  haggard, 
and  forlorn,  while  the  younger  people  were  barefooted 
and  poorly  clad. 

"Hither  have  I  guided  you,"  her  mother  told  her, 
"to  do  a  great  work.  It  is  so  far-reaching  I  will  not 
reveal  it  all  to  you  at  this  time.  You  might  doubt  this 
vision  because  of  its  magnitude.  From  time  to  time 
as  the  work  grows,  and  your  vision  expands,  I  will 
guide  you.  Some  day  the  echo  of  your  efforts  here 
in  this  out-of-the-way,  benighted,  place  will  be  heard 
around  the  world.  Here  your  father  will  find  his  salva- 
tion, and  his  work,  and  peace  to  his  soul." 

Peggy  awoke  in  the  morning  with  a  great  resolve  in 
her  heart.     She  felt  that  her  dream  was   something 


Earth  to  Earth  47 

more  than  a  dream — that  it  was  a  vision,  and  it  be- 
came to  her  a  great  white  light  to  guide  her  footsteps. 

As  day  after  day  passed,  and  they  traveled  through 
the  mountains  to  their  journey's  end,  her  vision  gave 
her  a  strength  and  courage  she  had  never  known  be- 
fore. 

Late  one  afternoon  she  looked  to  the  West,  and  be- 
hold the  place  of  her  dream !  She  inquired  of  a  pass- 
ing traveler,  and  he  said  dubiously : 

"That  is  Bucks  Pocket,  where  they  make  wild  cat 
whiskey  and  kill  'revenoo'  officers.  You  don't  want 
to  go  in  there,  for  if  you  do,  you  may  never  get  out 
alive." 

He  went  on  his  way,  and  the  wagon  rumbled  on 
until  they  came  to  the  winding  road  of  her  dream. 
Her  father  took  another  road,  and  Peggy  pleaded  with 
him  to  take  the  one  leading  into  the  mysterious  valley. 
He  protested,  but  she  was  so  earnest,  assuring  him 
that  she  felt  in  her  soul  that  it  was  what  they  ought 
to  do,  that  he  consented,  having  no  particular  objec- 
tion himself.  Just  as  the  sun  was  hiding  behind  the 
tall  trees  fringing  the  far  side  of  the  valley,  they  en- 
tered Bucks  Pocket. 


Chapter  Four 
THE  UNWELCOME  STRANGERS 

IT  was  a  rocky  road  that  led  into  Bucks  Pocket,  and 
the  approach  of  a  wagon  as  the  wheels  bounded 
from  boulder  to  boulder,  could  be  heard  for  a  mile 
or  more.  Even  a  man  on  horseback  could  not  travel 
that  road  without  being  betrayed  by  the  sound  of  his 
horse's  hoofs  on  the  rocks. 

The  Wares  had  not  traveled  far  until  a  man,  coming 
from  nowhere  apparently,  stood  in  front  of  the  wagon 
blocking  further  passage,  and  threw  up  his  hand,  giv- 
ing the  signal  to  stop. 

"Do  you  all  recon'  as  you  know  whar  you  gwine?" 
he  asked  in  a  high-pitched,  drawling  voice. 

He  was  tall,  lank,  dressed  in  homespun,  wore  a  coon- 
skin  cap,  and  carried  a  long  squirrel  rifle.  His  hair 
was  long  and  shaggy,  while  a  heavy  beard  completely 
covered  his  face,  leaving  nothing  visible  except  his 
eyes,  and  they  were  sharp  as  a  ferret's. 

Taken  by  surprise,  Wilbur  Ware  made  no  answer. 

Again  the  stranger  drawled:  "I  calc'late  you  all 
on  the  wrong  road  and  you'll  have  to  travel  about  a 
mile  afore  you  kin  find  a  place  big  enough  to  turn 
'round  in." 

Ware,  by  this  time,  found  his  voice,  and  said: 

"No,  we  haven't  taken  the  wrong  road,  and  will  be 
much  obliged  if  you  will  direct  us  to  a  camping  place." 

The    stranger    chuckled.      "They    ain't    no    campin' 

48 


The;  Unwelcome;  Strangers  49 

place  in  Bucks  Pocket  fur  strangers,  but  I'll  show  you 
whare  to  turn  round." 

"But  we  are  not  going  to  turn  round,  my  good  man, 
we  have  come  to  locate  and  live  among  you." 

This  time  the  coonskin-capped  man  laughed.  "We 
are  opposed  to  furrin  immigration,"  he  said,  "an'  the 
sooner  you  git  out,  the  better  it  will  be  fur  all  parties 
consarned.  Foller  me  an'  I'll  show  you  whare  to 
turn  round."  Without  waiting  for  a  reply  he  strode 
ahead,  and  there  was  nothing  to  do  but  follow. 

It  seemed  an  interminable  way,  but  the  stranger 
finally  stopped,  and  it  was  now  so  dark  that  the  occu- 
pants of  the  wagon  could  not  see  him. 

"Here  is  whare  you  turn  back,"  he  said. 

"It  is  so  dark  I  cannot  see  to  turn  round,  even  if  I 
desired  to,"  declared  Ware,  "and  we  will  spend  the 
night  here." 

"You  won't  without  a  fight,  pardner.  I've  been 
pow'ful  gentle  with  you,  but  I'll  git  rough  ef  you  make 
me." 

The  children  were  frightened,  and  Virginia  began  to 
cry.  This  instantly  caught  the  attention  of  the  bearded 
man,  and  he  said :  "Good  Lord,  you  ain't  got  yore 
brats  thare  in  the  wagon,  has  you?" 

"Yes,"  replied  Ware,  "I  have  my  three  children 
with  me." 

"Well,  I  recon'  that  brings  on  more  talk  than  I 
have  language  to  express.  So,  I'll  jest  take  you  to 
the  Captain,  and  let  him  try  yore  case."  Saying  which 
he  produced  a  lantern,  lighted  it,  and  said  in  a  gentler 
voice : 

"Foller  me,  pardner,  and  I'll  take  you  to  the  real 
boss  of  Bucks  Pocket." 

The  road  grew  smoother  and  the  ground  more  level 
as  they  proceeded,  while  the  trees  on  both  sides  of  the 


50  Peggy    Ware 

road  seemed  to  almost  touch  the  sky.  Finally  they 
reached  a  clearing  and  could  see  lights  twinkling. 
Soon  they  drew  up  in  front  of  a  huge,  two-story, 
double  log  house,  with  great  stone  chimneys  at  each 
end. 

The  man  guiding  the  Wares  entered  the  house,  and 
shortly  returned,  followed  by  a  large,  soldierly  built 
man  and  a  rather  small,  nervous  woman,  evidently  his 
wife. 

"Hello,  stranger !"  spoke  the  man  in  a  short,  com- 
manding tone.    "Who  are  you  and  what  do  you  want?" 

Again  Virginia  began  crying,  perhaps  thinking  that 
her  tears  might  soften  the  hearts  of  these  queer  people. 

"Bless  my  heart,"  said  the  woman,  "I  hear  a  baby. 
What  on  earth  do  you  mean,  stranger,  comin'  to  Bucks 
Pocket  with  yore  kid.  You  must  a  stole  it  some'ers 
and  come  here  to  hide^  it.  Ef  you  did,  we  don't  want 
no  child  stealers  here.  I  would  hate  one  worser  than 
I  do  the  "revenoo"  officers,  and  I  guess  I  hate  'em 
worse  'an  I  do  the  devil,"  said  Molly  Anderson. 

"No,  madam,"  answered  Ware,  "she  is  my  child.  I 
never  stole  a  child  in  my  life,  but  sixteen  years  ago 
some  cruel  monster  stole  my  first  born  and  I  have 
never  seen  or  heard  from  her  since." 

"Pore  man,  I  am  sorry  fer  youh,  and  ef  I  could  find 
the  scoundrel  what  stole  yore  chile,  I'd  pizen  him  same 
as  I  would  a  rattlesnake,"  replied  Mrs.  Anderson. 

No  one  observed  her  husband  as  he  turned  a  deathly 
white  and  clutched  at  the  wagon  wheel  to  steady  him- 
self. His  voice  was  husky  as  he  spoke,  and  he  was 
visibly  agitated. 

"Molly,  I  guess  we  bettah  take  these  kids  in  the 
house  tonight,  and  the  old  man  and  the  'coon',"  refer- 
ring to  Simon,  "can  camp  out,  and  in  the  mornin'  I'll 
'scort  them  out  of  Bucks  Pocket." 


The;  Unwelcome  Strangers  51 

Molly  Anderson's  big  heart  responded  instantly,  and 
Peggy,  Ralph,  and  Virginia  were  soon  inside  the  house 
by  a  roaring  fire,  while  Ware  and  Simon  were  shown 
a  place  where  they  could  leave  their  wagon  and  feed 
the  oxen. 

Ruth  Anderson  came  in  from  another  part  of  the 
house.  She  stood  looking  at  them,  shyly,  quizzically, 
until  her  mother  said : 

"Ruth,  these  is  some  strangers  what  lost  their  way, 
an'  we  are  gwine  to  keep  them  'til  mornin'." 

Then  Ruth  turned  to  Peggy  and  said:  "What  is 
your  name?"     To  which  Peggy  responded  : 

"My  name  is  Peggy  Ware,  and  I  am  so  glad  to 
know  you,  and  am  so  happy  to  be  here." 

"Well,  my  name  is  Ruth  Anderson,  and  I  like  you 
better  than  any  girl  I  ever  saw." 

Impulsively  Peggy  threw  her  arms  about  the  beauti- 
ful mountain  girl  and  kissed  her  warmly.  This  act  so 
touched  Ruth  that  she  said: 

"I'm  pow'ful  sorry  for  you,  and  I'm  goin'  to  ax  my 
pap  ef  you  can't  stay  with  us  all  the  time.  Would 
you  like  to?" 

"I  think  it  would  be  a  wonderful  home,  and  you 
have  such  a  lovely  mother  and  fine  father,  that  I  am 
sure  I  could  be  very,  very  happy  here,"  said  Peggy. 

Cliff  Anderson  had  entered  the  house  unobserved, 
and  as  he  listened  to  the  sincere  words  of  Peggy,  the 
hard  look  in  his  face  relaxed  and  he  said : 

"Little  gal,  it's  been  many  a  long  day  sense  any  one 
called  me  a  "fine  man,"  an'  ef  you  knowed  more  about 
me  I  am  afeard  you  would  change  your  mind." 

"I  could  never  change  my  opinion,  Mr.  Anderson," 
said  Peggy,  "for  I  can  look  in  your  eyes  and  see  that 
you  are  as  true  as  steel." 


52  Peggy    Ware 

His  eyes  shifted  before  Peggy's  soul-searching  gaze. 
His  eyes,  that  had  looked  death  in  the  face  many  times, 
quailed  before  a  slender  girl.  Happily  for  his  com- 
fort, his  wife  announced  that  supper  was  ready,  and 
as  she  bustled  the  Wares  into  the  kitchen,  where  the 
meals  were  both  cooked  and  eaten,  she  ordered  her 
husband  to  go  for  the  children's  father,  who,  she  said, 
"must  be  almost  froze  and  starved  too  by  this  time." 
"Bring  the  nigger  in  too  and  let  him  set  by  the  fire  and 
warm  hisself  while  the  white  folks  eat." 

Without  a  word  the  big  king  of  the  Wild  Catters 
obeyed  his  wife,  and  they  were  all  soon  seated  at  the 
long  table,  with  all  the  food  heaped  on  big  dishes  in 
the  center. 

"You  maybe  ain't  used  to  country  grub,  but  it's  the 
best  we  kin  do  fer  ye,"  apologized  Mrs.  Anderson.  "I 
got  nuthin'  but  cold  hog's  head  and  kraut,  some  back- 
bone and  spare  ribs,  some  cracklin'  bread  and  sweet 
taters  and  some  punkin  pie.  I  made  a  little  coffee, 
thinkin'  it  would  warm  ye  all  up  a  bit.  An'  I  have 
some  sweet  and  butter  milk,  and  some  of  the  best  but- 
ter you  ever  tasted.  And  I  have  some  biscuits  bakin', 
and  they  will  be  red  hot  by  the  time  you  finish  your 
corn  pone." 

Ralph  had  been  following  with  his  eyes  the  various 
articles  of  food  as  they  were  named  over,  and  by  the 
time  the  conversation  was  finished,  they  were  bulging 
with  delight,  for  he  was  very  much  in  love  with  his 
stomach.  Rubbing  this  portion  of  his  anatomy  in  a 
most  caressing  manner,  he  said : 

"If  you  will  excuse  me  for  buttin'  in,  I'll  say  that 
this  is  the  grandest  meal  I  ever  sat  down  to."  This 
brought  forth  a  hearty  laugh,  and  an  agreement  by 
every  one  that  they  would  never  die  of  starvation,  if 
they  could  always  have  Mrs.  Anderson  for  a  cook. 


The;  Unwelcome;  Strange;rs  53 

After  the  white  folks  had  finished,  Simon  was  in- 
vited to  the  table,  but  he  declined,  saying  that  he  pre- 
ferred to  eat  by  the  kitchen  fire,  where  he  could  keep 
warm.  So  a  generous  supply  of  everything  on  the 
table  was  placed  on  the  "hath,"  this  being  the  Bucks 
Pocket's  word  for  hearth,  and  the  old  darkey  enjoyed 
his  supper,  for,  as  he  remarked,  it  reminded  him  of  the 
"good  ole  days  in  Virginny  befo'  de  wah." 

Ruth,  who  had  never  seen  a  negro  before,  was  much 
interested  in  Simon,  and  peeped  in  at  the  kitchen  door 
more  than  once  to  watch  him  as  he  ate.  She  told 
Peggy  that  there  never  was  but  one  "nigger"  in  Bucks 
Pocket,  and  that  the  Ku-Klux  hung  him  and  threw  his 
body  in  the  Tennessee  River,  at  least  this  was  the  story 
that  had  been  handed  down ;  for  certain  it  was  that  he 
had  disappeared,  and  days  afterward  the  body  of  a 
negro  man  was  found  floating  in  the  river  near  Decatur. 

After  supper,  Anderson  suggested  that  he  and  the 
stranger  guest  retire  to  another  room,  saying:  "I 
recon'  we  might  as  well  talk  'turkey'  tonight  as  any 
time." 

With  their  bodies  warm  and  their  appetites  satisfied, 
Ralph  and  Virginia  soon  began  to  nod,  and  Peggy 
suggested  that  she  would  go  with  them  to  the  wagon 
and  put  them  to  bed.  To  this  suggestion  Mrs.  An- 
derson stoutly  protested. 

"Sakes  alive,  no,"  she  said;  "you'll  do  nothing  of  the 
sort.  I'll  pull  out  the  trundle  bed  that  Ruth  slept  on 
until  she  was  purty  nigh  grown,"  saying  which,  she 
went  to  the  further  end  of  the  big  room,  where  a  high, 
old-fashioned  bed  stood,  with  a  snow  white  counter- 
pane for  covering,  and  drew  from  under  it  a  trundle 
bed. 

"Me  and  Cliff  sleeps  here,  and  the  kids  will  be  safe 
here   on   the   trundle  bed,   I   recon,"  and   she   cast  a 


54  Peggy    Ware 

reassuring  look  to  the  arsenal  of  guns  in  the  rack  on 
the  wall. 

Ralph  and  Virginia  were  evidently  not  afraid,  for 
they  soon  were  sound  asleep,  tired  but  happy  that  they 
had  reached  a  haven  of  warmth  and  plenty  of  food. 

Left  to  themselves,  Mrs.  Anderson,  Ruth,  and  Peggy 
found  many  things  of  mutual  interest  to  talk  about. 

"I  guess  you  got  a  lot  of  book  larnin',  ain't  you?" 
inquired  Ruth  of  Peggy. 

Laughingly,  Peggy  said  :  "Well,  yes  ;  I  have  studied 
many  books,  but  I  feel  that  I  have  very  little  learning, 
and  am  only  a  beginner.  There  are  many  things  that 
you  don't  need  books  to  teach  you,  and  I  sometimes 
think  that  the  greatest  things  to  be  learned  are  not 
taught  in  books  at  all.  I  think  you  and  your  mother, 
for  instance,  have  learned  many  things  that  people  who 
dwell  in  cities  and  study  many  books  never  know  any- 
thing about.  I  am  beginning  to  feel  that  many  of  the 
things  we  learn  in  books  really  becloud  and  clog  our 
minds  so  that  the  great  truths  of  life  are  obscured  from 
our  vision." 

Ruth  and  her  mother  hung  breathless  on  Peggy's 
words,  although  they  did  not  fully  comprehend  her 
meaning.  They  realized  that  they  were  in  the  pres- 
ence of  an  unusual  girl,  and  her  words  were  like  some 
wonderful  elixir  of  life  to  them. 

"I  recon  you  ain't  got  none  of  them  books  with  you?" 
asked  Ruth,  fearing  that  the  answer  would  be  "no." 

To  her  great  joy  Peggy  said :  "Oh,  yes,  I  have  a  lot 
of  them  in  the  wagon." 

Ruth's  face  lighted  with  an  eagerness  that  Peggy 
was  destined  to  see  in  the  years  to  come  in  the  eager 
faces  of  thousands  of  mountain  boys  and  girls. 

"An'  will  you  teach  me  all  your  book  larnin'?" 
earnestly  pleaded  Ruth. 


The  Unwelcome  Strangers  55 

"I  will  teach  you  what  I  know,  with  all  my  heart," 
said  Peggy,  "if  it  is  God's  will  that  I  remain  in  Bucks 
Pocket." 

"Won't  you  begin  tonight?  I  want  to  see  your  books 
and  larn  jest  a  little  mite  before  I  go  to  bed." 

"Wait  tel  mornin',"  said  her  mother.  "The  young 
lady  is  tired,  and  besides  you  don't  know  how  yore 
pap  will  take  it.  You  know  he  never  wanted  you  to 
have  no  book  larnin',  and  I  am  afeared  that  he  won't 
stan'  fer  it.  You  know  a  school  taughter  come  into 
the  Pocket  onct,  and  started  a  school  an'  the  men  all 
got  together  and  whipped  him,  then  tarred  and  feath- 
ered him,  and  put  him  on  a  raft  and  started  him  down 
the  river,  and  nobody  ain't  never  seed  him  sence." 

"Yes,  I  know,  Ma,"  answered  Ruth.  "But  they 
thought  he  wus  a  spy  fer  the  'revenoos,'  and  I  know 
that  they  can't  think  that  about — about— — "  and  she 
hesitated. 

"Call  me  Peggy,  and  I'll  call  you  Ruth,"  suggested 
Peggy  graciously,  "and  then  we  will  feel  like  we  are 
old  friends." 

Both  girls  laughed,  and  Ruth's  mother  asked :  "May 
I  call  you  Peggy,  too?" 

"Certainly,"  said  Peggy,  "and  I'll  call  you  Ma  An- 
derson.    Won't  that  be  fine?" 

Again  they  laughed,  and  the  ice  was  broken  for- 
evermore. 

Peg§T  proposed  that  they  go  to  the  wagon  and  find 
some  of  her  school  books  and  bring  them  to  the  house. 
Securing  a  lantern,  the  two  girls  went  out  into  the 
darkness  to  hunt  for  the  precious  "book  larnin'." 

In  the  kitchen  Simon  nodded  by  the  fire,  now  burned 
low,  while  in  another  room  Anderson  and  Ware  talked 
long  and  earnestly,  Anderson  not  without  suspicion 
and  grave  misgivings,  while  Ware's  conversation  was 


56  Peggy    Ware 

that  of  a  man  laboring  under  some  great  mental  strain. 
Afterward  Anderson  was  heard  to  remark  that  he 
acted  like  a  "locoed  hoss." 

"Coming  right  down  to  turkey,  pardner,"  said  An- 
derson, when  they  were  seated  by  the  fire,  "what's  yore 
name,  whare  did  you  cum  frum,  what's  yore  business, 
an'  whare  you  gwine?" 

"Some  of  your  questions  are  easily  answered,"  re- 
plied Ware,  "and  some  of  them  will  have  to  be  answered 
later." 

"All  right,  pardner,  jest  as  you  like,  but  you  will 
have  to  answer  all  of  them  satisfactionally  before  you 
stay  in  Bucks  Pocket,  an'  then  maybe  you  won't  stay," 
gruffly  replied  Anderson. 

"I'll  do  the  best  I  can,  Mr.  Anderson,  for  I  assure 
you  I  have  nothing  to  conceal. 

"To  begin  with,  my  name  is  Ware,  Wilbur  Ware, 
and  I  come  from  the  Cumberland  mountains  beyond 
Knoxville.  Originally  I  came  from  Virginia  from  the 
Shenandoah  Valley.  My  wife  died  three  weeks  ago, 
and  her  death  has  almost  killed  me.  It  seems  to  me 
that  the  sun  has  never  shone  since,  and  never  will 
again,  and  I  just  wanted  to  get  away  from  the  world. 

"I  heard  that  there  was  some  vacant  government 
land  in  this  section,  and  I  thought  I  might  homestead 
a  hundred  and  sixty  acres  and  build  a  home  for  my 
three  children  and  make  a  living,  and  find  a  place  where 
no  one  knew  me,  and  where  I  would  never  meet  any 
one  that  knew  me  in  the  old  days." 

Ware's  evident  sincerity  and  distress  touched  the 
big  heart  of  Cliff  Anderson,  and  he  began  to  cast  about 
in  his  mind  for  some  way  to  help  Ware  and  his 
children. 

"You  know,  this  is  a  quare  country,  Mr.  Ware,  and 
I  don't  know  whuther  you  would  ketch  on  to  our  ways. 


The  Unwelcome  Strangers  57 

May  I  ax  what  were  yore  ocypation  in  the  "old  life," 
as  you  call  it?" 

Ware  hesitated.  This  was  the  first  time  this  ques- 
tion had  been  asked  since  he  decided  to  give  up  the 
ministry.  He  felt  ashamed  to  answer  for  some  reason 
that  he  could  not  have  explained.  After  waiting  until 
the  silence  had  become  painful,  and  Anderson's  suspi- 
cion had  been  once  more  aroused,  he  said :  "I  was  a 
minister  of  the  gospel."  This  was  like  shaking  a  red 
rag  at  a  bull,  for  Anderson  had  no  use  for  "sky  pilots," 
as  he  contemptuously  termed  all  ministers. 

"Oh,  you  wus  one  o'  them  shoutin'  sky  pilots,  wus 
you ;  snoopin'  round  to  find  somethin'  to  report  to  the 
revenoos?     And  be  you  still  follerin'  yore  old  job. 

Again  Ware  hesitated  before  the  blunt  questions  of 
Cliff  Anderson.  "No,  I  gave  up  preaching  when  my 
wife  died.  I'll  never  open  another  Bible  or  preach 
another  sermon  as  long  as  I  live." 

"The  hell  you  won't !"  exclaimed  Anderson.  "You 
must  a  reformed.     What  got  the  matter  with  you  ?" 

Should  he  tell  this  man  the  truth?  A  lie  trembled 
on  his  lips,  but  he  could  not  utter  it.  "Frankly,  Mr. 
Anderson,  I  came  to  the  conclusion  that  there  is  no 
God,  that  death  ends  all,  and  that  all  this  talk  about 
man's  soul,  the  soul  life  and  spirituality  is  not  in 
accordance  with  reason." 

"By  gosh,  I  thought  you  wus  queer  in  the  upper 
story,  and  I  know  it  now,"  declared  Anderson.  "Any 
man  that  says  they  ain't  no  God,  and  that  when  a  man 
dies  he  ain't  no  more'n  a  hoss,  is  a  durned  fool.  Say, 
pardner,  whare  did  you  git  all  them  wheels  in  yore 
gourd?" 

"The  beginning  of  my  doubts  was  sixteen  years  ago, 
when  I  was  pastor  of  a  church  at  Chattanooga,  Ten- 
nessee.    It  was  on  a  Christmas  day  that  the  first  great 


58  Peggy    Ware 

shock  came  to  me.  I  had  been  to  church  and  while  I 
was  gone  our  baby,  Florence,  two  years  old,  climbed 
down  the  steps  and  into  the  yard.  She  toddled  out 
into  the  street,  as  we  suppose,  just  before  the  time  for 
me  to  return  home,  and  my  wife  had  not  missed  her 
until  my  return.  In  fact,  she  was  not  feeling  well,  as 
it  was  just  before  our  second  baby,  Peggy,  was  born, 
and  my  wife  was  lying  down  resting  in  an  adjoining 
room  to  the  one  where  she  left  our  little  Florence 
playing.  At  any  rate,  when  I  came  home,  she  was 
gone,  and  we  have  never  been  able  to  get  a  trace  of  her 
since. 

"The  shock  to  my  wife  was  terrible,  and  she  never 
fully  recovered.  Peggy  was  born  that  night,  while  I 
was  away  searching  for  our  lost  child.  A  band  of 
gypsies  had  been  camping  near  Chattanooga  for  some 
weeks,  and  had  broken  camp  and  started  east  that 
morning.  It  is  supposed  that,  seeing  Florence  in  the 
street,  they  picked  her  up  and  concealed  her  in  one 
of  the  numerous  covered  wagons.  Four  other  chil- 
dren disappeared  at  the  same  time,  two  of  them  girls 
just  the  same  age  as  our  child.  An  armed  posse  fol- 
lowed the  band  of  gypsies,  which  had  divided.  After 
many  days  we  came  up  with  them  and  after  a  fight  we 
recovered  all  the  children  except  Florence  and  one 
other  girl  of  the  same  age.  We  could  find  no  trace, 
of  them.  Returning  to  where  the  band  divided,  we 
followed  the  other,  but  it,  too,  had  divided  and  scat- 
tered into  the  mountains,  and  I  finally  returned  home 
heartbroken,  without  our  child. 

"Without  continuing  the  painful  story,  I  will  simply 
add  that  1  roamed  for  years  from  place  to  place,  fol- 
lowing every  possible  clew,  hoping  to  find  her,  but  at 
last  I  lost  hope.  And  it  was  then  I  began  to  doubt 
everything.     My  wife  died,  still  believing  that  Flor- 


The;  Unwelcome;  Strangers  59 

ence  is  alive,  and  that  some  day  I  will  find  her.  I 
never  expect  to. 

"When  my  wife  died  I  felt  that  if  there  was  a  God 
he  could  not  be  so  cruel  as  to  rob  me  of  both  wife 
and  child." 

Anderson  listened  with  many  contending  emotions, 
that  might  have  been  read  in  his  face  by  a  keen  ob- 
server. Finally  he  said :  "Mr.  Ware,  you  have  had 
lots  of  trouble,  and  I  am  sorry  fer  you,  but  I  can't  see 
how,  ef  you  ever  knowed  God,  you  could  ever  doubt 
Him.  That's  the  way  I've  alius  felt  about  it.  I  ain't 
never  knowed  Him,  but  sometimes  I  have  wanted  to 
so  bad  that  it  hurt  me  in  here,"  placing  his  hand 
on  his  heart.  "Maybe  you  never  honest-to-goodness 
knowed  Him." 

Ware  did  not  see  fit  to  attempt  to  answer  this  last 
thrust,  and  the  men  sat  silent  for  a  long  time,  gazing 
into  the  flickering  coals,  each  busy  with  his  own 
thoughts.  Finally  Anderson,  in  a  voice  with  some- 
thing of  fear  in  it,  said : 

"Ef  you  wus  to  find  yore  gal  now,  how  would  you 
know  her?     Wus  they  any  birth  marks  on  her?" 

"None  at  all,"  replied  Ware.  "I  have  often  thought 
of  that,  but  always  felt  that  somehow  or  other  I  would 
just  know.  And  besides,  she  resembled  her  mother 
and  may  have  grown  up  to  look  like  her." 

"Yes,  but  you  could  never  be  jest  as  shore  as  shootin' 
that  it  ware  her  or  the  other  gal,  could  you?"  argued 
Anderson. 

"I  suppose  that  is  true,  Mr.  Anderson,  but  I  am  sure 
I  shall  never  find  her  and  will  not  have  to  decide." 

Anderson  suggested  that  it  must  be  getting  late, 
and  both  men  rose  and  walked  into  the  other  room. 
There  they  were  greeted  by  an  unexpected  sight. 
Ralph  and  Virginia  were  sleeping  soundly  in  the  trim- 


60  Peggy    Ware 

die-bed;  while  Peggy  was  teaching  Ruth  the  alphabet. 
She  had  learned  quite  half  of  her  letters,  and  Peggy 
had  written  "Ruth  Anderson"  at  Ruth's  request,  and 
she  had  traced  out  the  letters  slowly,  painfully  almost, 
trying  to  imitate  Peggy's  writing,  and  she  and  her 
mother  were  overjoyed  at  the  result. 

Anderson  was  dumbfounded,  and  evidently  dis- 
pleased. 

"I  don't  want  my  gal  to  have  no  book  larnin',"  he 
said  angrily. 

Peggy  was  half  frightened  and  quite  unable  to  un- 
derstand this  strange  obsession  against  "book  larnin'." 

"I  am  sure,  Mr.  Anderson,  that  what  I  teach  her  will 
do  her  no  harm,"  and  the  earnest  eyes  of  Peggy  pleaded 
with  him.  He  quailed  before  those  soul-searching  eyes 
as  he  had  done  once  before  that  evening. 

"Oh,  pap,  I  want  book  larnin'  worser  than  anything 
in  the  world,  and  Peggy  is  gwine  to  teach  it  to  me,  and 
you  will  let  her,  now  won't  you,  pap?" 

As  he  wavered  and  hesitated  about  replying,  his  wife 
came  to  the  rescue  and  said :  "Of  course,  you'll  let  her 
larn,  Cliff." 

For  answer  he  said :  "I  think  you  gals  had  better  go 
to  bed,  and  we  will  see  about  it  in  the  mornin'." 

"You  won't  sleep  in  the  wagon  tonight,  Ware,"  he 
said  hospitably.  "There  is  a  good  feather  bed  in  the 
other  room,  and  you  kin  sleep  there,  and  Simon  kin 
bring  his  blankets  and  sleep  on  the  hath  by  the  kitchen 
fire.  My  dad  used  to  say  that  ef  a  nigger  could  sleep 
with  his  head  to  the  fire  he  didn't  keer  about  his  feet. 
So  yore  nigger  kin  keep  his  head  warm  ef  he  will  keep 
the  fire  goin'."    And  he  laughed  at  his  own  wit. 

While  Anderson  was  disposing  of  Ware  and  Simon, 
Mrs.  Anderson  had  conducted  Peggy  and  Ruth  up  the 
stairway  to  a  big  room  over  the  one  occupied  by  Ralph 


The;  Unwelcome  Strangers  61 

and  Virginia,  where  she  turned  down  the  cover,  expos- 
ing a  pair  of  snow-white  sheets  on  a  great  feather  bed. 

After  Mrs.  Anderson  had  gone,  and  the  girls  were 
all  ready  to  "jump  in"  bed,  Ruth,  talking  excitedly 
every  moment,  she  stopped  in  the  middle  of  a  sentence 
as  she  discovered  that  Peggy  was  kneeling  by  the  bed, 
praying  silently.  She  stood  abashed  for  a  moment, 
and  then  without  a  word  slid  down  beside  Peggy  and 
directly  she  began  to  sob,  not  knowing  why.  Gently 
Peggy  laid  her  hand  on  Ruth's  head,  and  the  wild 
mountain  girl,  feeling  something  stir  her  soul  for  the 
first  time  in  her  life,  whispered : 

"Please  pray  fer  me,  Peggy.  I  don't  know  how." 
Cliff  Anderson  and  Molly  sat  by  the  fire  for  a  long 
time.  It  was  past  midnight,  and  all  in  the  house  were 
asleep  except  these  two,  and  Wilbur  Ware,  whose 
occasional  sighs,  as  he  tossed  restlessly  on  his  bed, 
told  of  his  perturbed  spirit  that  would  not  allow  him 
the  balm  of  sleep. 

After  tip-toeing  softly  up  the  stairway  and  returning, 
Molly  Anderson  said : 

"Cliff,  I  wonder  ef  God  ever  does  anything  fer  folks 
like  us?"  To  which  he  replied,  with  more  feeling  than 
she  had  ever  known  him  to  exhibit: 

"I  hope  so,  Molly." 

Once  more  she  climbed  to  the  head  of  the  stairway, 
with  a  lighted  candle  in  her  hand,  and  this  time  she 
whispered :    "Come  here,  Cliff." 

Not  knowing  what  his  wife  wanted,  he  ascended  the 
stairs,  his  boots  creaking  loudly,  while  she  warned  him 
by  many  "shoos"  and  whispers  to  make  less  noise. 
Silently  she  pointed  to  the  sleeping  girls,  and  as  the 
stern  old  Wild  Catter  looked  long  and  earnestly  at  the 
golden  head  nestling  on  the  same  pillow  beside  the 


62  Peggy    Ware 

one  crowned  with  raven  locks,  the  tears  dimmed  his 
eyes  and  shut  out  the  vision  for  a  moment. 

Slowly  he  descended,  followed  by  his  wife,  who  was 
perturbed  because  of  his  agitation.  It  was  the  first 
time  she  had  ever  seen  a  tear  in  those  steel-blue,  fear- 
less eyes,  and  she  was  afraid  that  her  husband  was 
not  well. 

"Be  you  sick,  Cliff,"  she  said  anxiously. 

"No,  Molly,  I  ain't  sick;  it's  a  heap  sight  worser  nor 
any  sickness." 

"What  on  earth  can  it  be,  Cliff?"  asked  Molly,  now 
thoroughly  alarmed. 

"I  don't  know  myself,  Molly.  Some  day,  ef  I  ever 
find  out,  I  may  tell  you."  He  would  say  no  more,  and 
she  had  to  be  contented,  for  she  well  knew  when  her 
husband  was  through  talking. 

"I  am  gwine  to  the  still,  Molly,  and  won't  be  back 
'til  breakfast,"  he  said.' 

Again  she  knew  that  words  would  be  vain,  so  she 
said  simply: 

"Take  good  keer  of  yerself,  Cliff,"  and  the  big  form 
of  the  King  of  the  Wild  Catters  was  swallowed  up  in 
the  darkness. 


Chapter  Five 
THE  NEW  LIFE  BEGINS 

WILBUR  WARE  and  Simon  were  astir  early  the 
next  morning,  for  Ware  had  slept  little,  and 
Simon,  as  was  his  life-long  custom,  was  up 
building  fires,  so  that  the  house  might  be  warm  for  the 
white  folks. 

Ware  was  pale  and  haggard.  In  the  long  hours  of 
the  night  he  realized  that  he  was  like  a  ship  without  a 
rudder,  trying  to  sail  an  unknown  sea  without  a  chart 
or  compass.  It  seemed  to  him  that  his  present  predica- 
ment was  the  culmination  of  a  life  of  failure. 

He  was  now  past  the  meridian  of  life,  without  earthly 
possession,  with  three  children  depending  on  him  as 
counsellor,  guide,  and  provider ;  and  he,  laboring  under 
some  strange  hallucination,  had  come  to  this  dark 
corner  of  civilization,  without  aim  or  purpose,  other 
than  to  eke  out  a  miserable  animal  existence  . 

He  had  been  uprooted  from  the  past  as  if  by  some 
ruthless  force,  and  he  found  himself  unable  to  even 
get  a  glimpse  of  the  future.  He  felt  ready  to  throw 
up  his  hands  and  surrender.  He  had  no  respect  for 
himself,  nor  did  he  expect  anyone  else  to  have.  He 
really  feared  himself,  and  mentally  he  contemplated 
himself  as  a  human  derelict,  drifting  about  until  some 
unusual  wave  should  obliterate  him  forever. 

No  matter  in  which  direction  he  looked,  all  was 
darkness.  No  north  star  gleamed  to  point  the  way. 
Where  his  God  once  sat  upon  a  great  throne,  there 

63 


64  Peggy    Ware 

was  only  chaos.  His  God  was  gone,  his  throne  a  mass 
of  crumbling  ruins,  and  a  great,  gaunt  skeleton,  with 
lusterless  eyes  brooded  over  the  scene  of  desolation, 
and  on  his  forehead  there  was  the  word  "Unbelief." 

When  he  looked  within,  the  blackness  was  even 
greater,  and  there  sat  an  imp  in  the  form  of  the  devil 
of  our  childhood  fancies,  and  his  name  was  "Despair." 
Blindly  he  wondered  if  it  would  not  have  been  better 
if  his  theological,  materialistic  God,  loving,  hating, 
rewarding,  punishing,  jealous  at  times,  and  anon  angry, 
just  a  big  super-man,  had  retained  his  throne.  Then  he 
would  have  had  some  sort  of  anchorage  at  least, 
whereas  he  now  had  none. 

These  thoughts  surged  through  his  mind  as  he  fed 
the  oxen  and  wondered  where  his  wanderings  would 
next  carry  him. 

A  bountiful  breakfast,  with  home-made  sausage, 
fried  chicken,  old-fashioned  sorghum,  and  hot  butter- 
milk biscuits  was  ready  when  he  returned  to  the  house. 
He  inquired  about  his  host,  and  was  assured  by 
Mrs.  Anderson  that  he  had  gone  for  an  early  morning 
walk  and  he  would  be  back  for  breakfast.  A  swift 
glance  from  Ruth  indicated  that  she  knew  the  cause  of 
her  father's  absence. 

Ralph  and  Virginia  were  very  much  at  home,  and 
Mrs.  Anderson  was  already  "mothering"  them,  to  their 
great  delight. 

Peggy's  face  was  radiant,  for  her  mother  had  again 
visited  her  in  a  dream,  and  to  her  it  was  real.  The 
vision  she  saw  had  been  so  indelibly  written  on  her 
soul  that  it  could  never  be  erased. 

When  the  meal  was  half  finished,  Anderson  entered 
briskly,  apologizing  for  his  tardiness,  explaining  that 
his  walk  had  carried  him  farther  than  he  had  intended 
to  go. 


The  New  Life:  Begins  65 

His  wife  surveyed  his  countenance  swiftly,  and  she 
must  have  been  satisfied  with  what  she  read  there,  for 
she  said  cheerfully :  "I  think  yore  walk  done  you  a 
heap  o'  good,  Cliff." 

To  which  he  replied:    "I  hope  so,  Molly." 

After  breakfast  they  assembled  about  the  great  fire- 
place in  the  "settin'  "  room,  all  feeling  that  a  crisis  had 
been  reached,  and  that  the  fate  of  the  Wares  was  now 
trembling  in  the  balance.  Ruth  hovered  near  Peggy, 
holding  her  hand,  and  showing  by  her  manner  an 
admiration  akin  to  worship. 

Clearing  his  throat,  Anderson  broke  the  silence.  "I 
took  a  walk,  Ware,  so  I  could  figger  out  what  to  do. 
I  am  goin'  to  call  you  jest  plain  Ware,  becase  I  am 
a  plain  man  and  am  goin'  to  treat  you  as  an  equal. 

"I'm  glad  you  left  off  bein'  a  parson,  fur  I  ain't  got 
no  respect  fur  them,  at  least  the  sort  of  cattle  I  have 
seed.  But  I  am  sorry  you  left  off  God.  We  ain't 
gwine  to  quarrel  about  that  now,  case  I  don't  know 
nothin'  about  Him  myself,  'cept  what  somethin'  in  here 
tells  me. 

"I  took  my  walk  to  git  way  off  by  myself  whare  I 
could  listen  to  that  somethin',  fur  I  have  paid  so  little 
'tention  to  it  all  my  life  that  its  voice  is  purty  weak. 
I  don't  know  what  it  is,  but  I  know  that  when  I  made 
up  my  mind  this  mornin'  to  do  what  it  sed,  I  felt  I  wus 
walkin'  on  air.  Bein'  as  you  wus  onct  a  parson,  maybe 
you  kin  tell  me  what  it  is?" 

Ware  shook  his  head  sadly,  whereupon  Ralph  held 
up  his  hand  and  said :    "Sister  Peggy  knows." 

Turning  to  her  with  a  look  of  intense  longing  in  his 
face,  Anderson  said:  "Miss  Peggy,  won't  you  tell  me 
and  yore  pa  too,  fur  we  both  need  to  know." 

Peggy  felt  the  earnestness  of  the  man,  and  like  all 


66  Peggy    Wars 

great  souls,  she  realized  the  insignificance  of  her  own 
knowledge,  and  it  was  with  deep  feeling  that  she  said : 

"That  is  one  of  the  greatest  questions  ever  asked, 
Mr.  Anderson,  and  I  would  not  undertake  to  answer 
it  now.  If  it  is  for  the  best  that  I  should  be  your 
teacher,  together  we  will  find  a  solution  to  your  prob- 
lem. It  may  require  a  long  time,  but  have  no  fear, 
for  when  a  man  earnestly  desires  to  know  the  truth, 
the  knowledge  always  comes  to  him,  and  when  he  calls, 
his  teacher  is  at  hand." 

"Well,"  said  Anderson,  "I  guess  you  are  gwine  to 
be  my  teacher  ef  you  will,  fur  that  somethin'  what  I 
ain't  got  no  name  fur  told  me  to  let  you  all  stay  in 
Bucks  Pocket,  an'  when  I  said  'By  gosh !  I'll  do  it,  ef  it 
takes  the  hide',  I  jest  felt  like  shoutin',  and  then  I  said 
to  myself,  'You  durned  old  fool,  you'll  be  gittin'  religion 
the  next  thing  you  know,  an'  that  will  be  the  disgrace- 
fullest  thing  you  ever 'done  in  yore  life." 

Everyone  joined  in  the  hearty  laugh  that  followed, 
and  Ruth,  unable  to  restrain  her  joy,  rushed  to  her 
father  and  surprised  him  by  kissing  his  weatherbeaten 
cheek,  exclaiming  as  she  did  so :  "Oh,  daddy,  daddy,  I 
can  have  book  larnin',  can't  I?" 

Brushing  his  cheek  with  the  back  of  his  hand,  as 
though  ashamed  to  be  the  subject  of  his  daughter's, 
affection,  he  said:  "Wall,  it  all  depends  on  whuther 
the  parson — I  mean  Ware — will  take  the  oath  or  not. 
Ef  he  had  never  been  a  parson,  I  might  let  him  off; 
but  bein'  as  he  onct  had  religion,  he  must  sware  an' 
sware  on  the  Bible,  too,  ef  you  all  have  one,  that  he 
won't  do  no  snoopin'  roun'  fur  the  revenoos.  Will 
you  do  it,  Ware?" 

"An  oath  is  not  necessary  to  bind  me,  Mr.  Anderson, 
but  if  you  desire  it,  I  have  no  objection,  for  under  no 


The  New  Liee  Begins  67 

circumstances  would  I  partake  of  your  hospitality  and 
then  betray  you." 

Peggy,  accompanied  by  Ruth,  had  gone  to  the  wagon 
and  now  returned,  Peggy  carrying  her  mother's  Bible. 

Bidding  Ware  place  his  hand  on  the  book,  the  King 
of  the  Wild  Catters  placed  his  hand  firmly  on  Ware's 
and  administered  the  Wild  Catter's  oath.  It  was  a 
weird  scene,  and  all  were  fascinated  by  the  unusual 
ceremony. 

"They  ain't  no  use  havin'  Miss  Peggy  sware," 
drawled  Anderson,  "becase  she  ain't  never  had  no 
religion,  and  then  somethin'  in  her  eyes  would  make 
me  trust  her  with  my  life  any  day,"  saying  which  he 
handed  the  Bible  to  Peggy.  As  he  did  so,  a  sheet  of 
paper  fell  from  it,  on  which  there  were  some  lines 
written,  so  faint  as  to  be  almost  unintelligible.  Peggy 
picked  the  paper  from  the  floor,  and  at  the  first  glance 
her  hands  began  to  tremble  violently.  Her  face 
blanched,  her  eyes  filled  with  tears  and  a  sob  rose  in 
her  throat. 

Seeing  her  agitation,  her  father,  deeply  concerned, 
inquired  the  cause.  In  a  broken  voice  she  said :  "This 
was  written  by  mother  after  she  realized  that  the  end 
was  near,  and  she  placed  it  in  her  Bible,  knowing  that 
we  would  find  it.  In  the  hurry  and  confusion  of 
moving  the  book  was  placed  where  it  was  not  easy  to 
find,  and  a  kind  Providence  has  preserved  this  precious 
message  until  now." 

Her  father,  his  voice  husky,  and  his  face  deathly 
white,  said,  "Read  it,"  while  Ralph  and  Virginia  clung 
to  Peggy. 

"Dear  husband  and  children,"  and  Peggy  had  to 
stop  and  stifle  a  sob,  "the  end  has  come  suddenly  in 
the  form  of  one  of  those  hemorrhages  that  means  but 
a  few  minutes  for  preparation.    I  need  no  time  for  this, 


68  Peggy    Ware; 

as  I  am  ready  and  unafraid.  I  am  sorry  to  leave  you, 
and  how  I  do  wish  you  were  here  to  say  good-bye.  I 
am  not  alone,  for  I  feel  God's  presence,  and  the  room 
is  full  of  the  spirits  of  loved  ones  who  are  here  to 
welcome  me. 

"After  all,  dear  ones,  there  is  just  a  thin  veil  between 
this  side  and  the  other,  and  when  your  spiritual  eyes 
are  open,  there  is  no  veil  at  all. 

"I  know  now  that  I  will  always  be  near  you  when 
you  need  me,  and  it  would  be  so  sweet  to  go  if  I 
thought  you  could  see  me  as  I  shall  you. 

"I  see  our  dear  Florence,  now  a  beautiful  young 
woman,  and  I  see  you  all  happily  reunited,  and  when 
you  are  I  will  be  with  you. 

"I  have  stopped  so  often  to  try  to  staunch  this  flow 
of  blood,  that  I  have  little  time  left.  And  now  good- 
bye. I  leave  you  in  God's  hands.  I  will  sit  by  the 
window  watching  the  road  to  the  last  minute,  hoping 
you  will  come  before  the  end. 

"I  will  place  this  in  my  Bible,  which  I  give  to  Peggy. 
And  now,  just  a  sweet  good-bye,  for  we  will  meet  in 
the  morning." 

When  she  had  finished,  no  one  spoke  for  a  long  time. 
Sobs  filled  the  room,  and  Wilbur  Ware  sat  with  his, 
head  bowed  in  his  hands,  his  grief  pathetic.  Con- 
trolling himself  at  last  by  a  mighty  effort,  he  said: 
"My  God,  my  God,  why  hast  thou  forsaken  me !  My 
wife,  my  own,  lead  me  out  of  this  pit  of  darkness  to 
Him,  if  you  have  found  Him  on  the  other  side  and 
can  hear  me !" 

Looking  toward  Simon,  who  had  quietly  entered  the 
room,  and  whose  black  face  was  calm  and  serene,  Ware 
said:  "I  owe  it  to  you,  Simon,  that  you  saved  those 
precious  words  of  my  wife,  her  last  message  to  us.     I 


The  New  LiEE  Begins  69 

must  have  been  mad  when  I  attempted  to  burn  her 
Bible." 

"You  sho'  wus  mad  when  you  burned  yore  God," 
said  Simon,  "an'  den  I  spec  you  thought  dat  de  Bible 
wus  His  book  an'  dat  you  burn  it  too.  But  I  knowed 
long  time  ergo  dat  yore  God  warn't  in  de  Bible  at  all, 
and  I  wanted  to  sabe  young  missus'  book  case  you 
kin  find  Him  in  her  Bible  bettah  dan  any  Bible,  case 
she  find  Him  dar." 

Simon's  long  speech  somewhat  relieved  the  tension, 
but  all  waited  for  Anderson  to  speak.  At  length  he 
said:  "I  know  of  a  vacant  piece  of  land  in  the  Pocket 
that  you  kin  homestead.  It  is  one  hundred  and  sixty 
acres  of  as  fine  timber  as  you  ever  seed,  and  you  kin 
go  ahead  and  build  yore  home,  and  then  go  to  town 
and  enter  it.  I  own  most  all  the  land  that  is  wuth 
anything  'cept  this.  Whenever  anybody  didn't  suit 
me,  I  jest  bought  'em  out,  and  now  most  everybody 
lives  on  my  land,  an'  I  can  have  'em  move  whenever  I 
want  'em  to.  They  is  more  fine  timber  in  the  Pocket 
than  any  other  place  in  the  State,  an'  I  recon  we 
ought  to  make  a  pile  of  money  outen  it  ef  we  knowed 
how. 

"Jest  one  thing  pesters  me  erbout  our  'rangements, 
and  that  is  him,"  indicating  Simon  by  a  nod  of  his  big 
shaggy  head.  "You  know  it's  a  law  of  Bucks  Pocket 
that  no  nigger  can't  let  the  sun  go  down  on  him  here 
without  riskin'  his  life.  I  have  alius  helped  enforce 
this  law,  an'  I  don't  see  nuthin'  to  do  but  fur  yore 
nigger  to  git  outen  these  diggins  quick.  I'm  pow'ful 
sorry,  but  I  can't  help  it." 

Nothing  could  have  thrown  greater  consternation 
into  the  Ware  camp.  If  this  decree  of  the  master  of 
Bucks  Pocket  had  to  stand,  it  meant  that  the  Wares 
would  have  to  move  on.     Ralph  and  Virginia  in  terror 


70  Peggy    Ware 

ran  to  Simon  and  clung  to  him  as  though  they  feared 
that  he  would  be  forcibly  torn  away  from  them,  cry- 
ing: "You  shan't  leave  us.  We'll  go  with  you."  To 
which  Peggy  added  quietly  : 

"No,  Mr.  Anderson,  we  will  not  allow  Simon  to  be 
turned  out  into  the  world  alone.  He  has  been  in  the 
family  since  before  the  war,  and  his  faithfulness  and 
devotion  is  such  as  is  found  nowhere  except  in  the 
colored  race.  I  thank  you  for  your  hospitality  and 
kindness,  but  we  must  decline  to  remain  longer  if 
Simon  is  not  welcome." 

Peggy's  father  emphasized  what  his  daughter  had 
said,  and  the  fate  of  the  Wares  seemed  to  be  again 
trembling  in  the  balance. 

Pathetically,  almost  frantically,  Ruth  pleaded  with 
her  father,  and  she  was  warmly  seconded  by  her 
mother. 

The  strong  man  was  greatly  perturbed.  He  knew 
the  temper  of  his  mountaineers,  and  dreaded  to  make 
an  issue  with  them  on  the  race  question.  He  saw  what 
an  opportunity  it  would  afford  Bud  Whitman  to  wreak 
vengeance  on  him  and  his  and  the  Wares  through 
inoffensive  old  Simon. 

Sensing  the  difficulty,  Simon  came  to  the  rescue, 
offering,  as  always,  to  lay  himself  on  the  altar  of  sac- 
rifice. "I  ain't  goin'  to  stan'  in  youah  way  to  findin' 
a  home  and  peace.  'Corse  I  hates  to  leab  you,  but  I 
kin  go  to  Chattanooga  an'  fin'  work,  and  maybe  some- 
time Miss  Peggy  and  Ralph  and  Virginny,  and  Massa 
Ware  kin  come  up  an'  I  kin  ketch  a  glimpse  ob  'em. 
An'  sides  all  dat,  I  kin  make  bettah  wages  up  dah  an' 
send  de  money  down  to  help  you  git  started.  It  don't 
mattah  jes'  so  you  all  is  happy,  case  I  is  happy  jest 
anywhar." 


The;  New  Life  Begins  71 

The  supreme  unselfishness  of  the  old  man,  now  al- 
most eighty,  stirred  the  big,  slumbering  soul  of  this 
kingly  mountaineer,  and  he  said :  "Wall,  folks,  ef  you 
want  to  resk  it,  I  will ;  but  I  reckon'  it  means  the  big- 
gest fight  that  wus  ever  pulled  off  in  Bucks  Pocket — 
an'  I  recon'  it  means  that  Cliff  Anderson  will  be  at 
the  fight." 

So  it  was  settled  that  Simon  should  remain  and 
await  developments.  Ralph  and  Virginia  clapped  their 
hands  and  laughed,  while  the  old  darky  turned  away 
to  hide  his  emotions. 

It  was  the  moment  of  supreme  happiness  in  Ruth's 
life.  She  bounded  like  a  fawn  from  father  to  mother 
and  then  back  to  Peggy,  kissing  and  caressing  each 
in  turn,  not  slighting  Ralph  and  Virginia.  She  even 
shyly,  timidly,  took  Wilbur  Ware  by  the  hands,  giv- 
ing them  a  hearty  pressure,  and  then  turned  to  Simon 
and  said : 

"Uncle  Simon,  I  am  glad  you  are  goin'  to  stay.  I'll 
fight  a  stack  o'  wild  cats  fur  you  ef  you  need  me." 

It  was  soon  settled  that  the  Ware  children,  Peggy, 
Ralph  and  Virginia,  should  remain  at  the  Andersons 
until  their  house  could  be  built,  and  Anderson  showed 
Ware  and  Simon  the  boundaries  of  the  tract  of  land 
that  he  proposed  to  enter,  and  he  and  Simon  began 
cutting  logs  for  the  house.  This  required  but  a  few 
days,  and  in  a  short  time  the  logs  had  all  been  hauled 
to  the  site  selected  for  the  erection  of  the  home,  and 
the  clap  boards  rived  out  for  roofing  it. 

In  the  meantime  Mrs.  Anderson,  Ruth  and  Peggy 
had  been  busy  preparing  the  material  for  a  big  quilt- 
ing bee  to  take  place  on  the  day  of  the  "house  raising." 
Whatever  spare  time  they  could  find,  Peggy  put  in 
teaching  Ruth  "book  larnin',"  and  her  aptitude  for 
learning  was  surprising.    Even  Cliff  Anderson  became 


72  Peggy    Ware 

interested  and  said  he  wished  he  had  some  "book 
larnin'  "  himself,  and  his  wife  sighed  as  she,  too,  no 
doubt,  longed  for  a  sufficient  amount  to  at  least  en- 
able her  to  read  her  almanac  so  she  could  tell  when 
the  moon  was  right  for  planting. 

The  great  day  arrived,  and  the  neighbors  who  had 
been  invited  came  early  to  the  house  raising  and 
quilting.  While  the  men  were  raising  the  house,  the 
women  would  quilt  several  covers  for  Peggy.  As  one 
of  them  said,  expressing  the  sentiments  of  the  others. 
"Pore  thing,  she  ain't  got  no  mammy,  an'  she  looks  so 
much  like  an  angel  that  it  would  be  a  burnin'  shame 
ef  she  had  to  do  her  own  quiltin'." 

The  house  was  to  consist  of  one  room,  twenty  by 
twenty  feet,  with  a  lean-to  and  a  stick  and  dirt  chim- 
ney. 

One  man  sat  on  each  of  the  four  corners  of  the  house 
who  was  an  expert  "notcher,"  and  when  one  of  the 
big  logs  was  put  in  place  by  the  husky  men  on  the 
ground,  the  notchers  fell  to  work,  their  axes  falling 
in  unison,  making  a  rhythmical  music  that  reverber- 
ated through  the  forest.  When  the  walls  had  risen 
sufficiently,  some  began  to  lay  the  puncheon  floor, 
while  others  built  the  chimney  of  thin  pieces  of  white 
oak,  split  uniformly  and  laid  so  that  the  cracks  were 
not  more  than  an  inch  wide.  Into  these  they  placed 
thick  mud,  smearing  it  solid  on  the  inside  of  the  chim- 
ney so  that  when  it  dried  it  would  be  safe  from  the 
heat  and  sparks  from  the  fireplace. 

By  the  noon  hour,  the  walls  of  the  house  were  up 
and  ready  for  the  roof,  and  two  quilts  were  completed, 
with  two  more  on  the  frames. 

While  some  of  the  women  had  been  quilting,  others, 
the  good  cooks  among  them,  had  been  preparing  din- 
ner, and  old  Simon  had  been  busy  waiting  on  them, 


The  New  Life  Begins  73 

carrying  water,  keeping  up  the  fires,  and  by  his  con- 
duct the  women,  who  had  at  first  looked  at  him  as- 
kance, became  less  afraid  of  him,  one  of  them  even 
remarking:  "It  ain't  so  bad  to  have  a  nigger  round  to 
wait  on  you  ef  you  can  afford  it." 

When  all  was  ready,  Mrs.  Anderson  took  down  the 
horn  and  blew  several  long,  shrill  blasts  that  echoed 
and  reverberated  through  the  gorges  and  peaks  of 
Bucks  Pocket,  and  was  easily  heard  a  mile  away  where 
the  men  were  at  work  raising  the  house.  No  other 
invitation  was  necessary,  for  they  all  understood  this 
signal.  There  were  many  other  signals  which  the 
women  of  Bucks  Pocket  knew  how  to  give  on  the  horn, 
which  by  the  way  was  always  made  from  the  horn  of 
a  big  ox.  They  all  knew  the  warning  signal  when 
the  revenoos  were  coming  ^nd  a  different  one  when 
they  had  gone.  So  Mrs.  Anderson  knew  just  what 
meant  to  these  hungry  men  "dinner's  ready" ;  and  be- 
fore the  echo  of  the  last  note  had  died  away,  they  were 
all  on  the  ground  starting  for  the  home  of  the  Cap- 
tain, where  each  felt  it  a  distinguished  honor  to  be 
invited. 

How  the  men  did  eat !  They  had  all  visited  the  Cap- 
tain's smoke  house  on  the  way  to  dinner,  and  each 
had  a  long  "swig"  of  the  boss'  oldest  and  best  corn 
whiskey,  and  they  were  as  keen  for  food  as  the  hound 
is  for  the  chase. 

Anderson  asked  Ware  if  he  would  join  the  men  in 
having  a  "horn,"  but  he  said  no,  which  pleased  Ander- 
son greatly. 

While  the  men  ate,  most  of  their  wives  visited  the 
smoke  house,  and  it  was  a  merry  hour. 

It  was  a  wonderful  dinner.  There  was  fried  ham, 
boiled  ham,  roast  pork  ribs,  baked  back  bones,  chicken 
pie,    wild    turkey,    "possum   and    taters,"    corn    pone, 


74  Peggy    Wars 

"light"  bread,  hot  biscuits,  hog  jowl,  turnips  and  tur- 
nip greens,  and  so  many  sorts  of  pies  and  cakes  that 
it  would  have  taken  an  expert  to  enumerate  them. 

When  all  had  eaten,  and  the  women  told  Simon  to 
"set  down  to  the  table  and  'jest  help  yoreself,"  there 
was  still  a  mountain  of  food  that  he  could  scarcely  see 
over. 

By  night  the  house,  including  the  lean-to,  was  com- 
plete, and  they  even  had  time  to  build  a  shack  for 
Simon,  which  was  done  at  the  suggestion  of  Ander- 
son. This  kindness  touched  Simon  greatly,  and  he 
said :  "White  folks,  you  all  is  too  good  to  me.  I  don't 
know  how  I  kin  evah  pay  you  back." 

One  of  the  men  said:  "Don't  be  thankin'  us,  old 
man,  thank  the  big  boss.  We  ain't  got  nuthin'  agin 
you,  but  we  may  be  runnin'  you  out  o'  Bucks  Pocket 
the  first  thing  you  know." 

Some  of  the  men  laifghed,  while  others  nodded  as- 
sent, one  of  them  remarking  that  there  was  "shore 
gwine  to  be  trouble  over  that  nigger  when  Bud  Whit- 
man found  out  about  him." 

At  that  moment,  Bud  hove  into  sight.  He  had  not 
been  invited  to  the  working,  as  he  had  not  made  his 
peace  with  Anderson,  and  the  latter  had  no  desire  that 
he  should  do  so.  He  was  evidently  pretty  "full." 
When  he  discovered  Simon,  he  bellowed  like  a  bull. 

"Whare  did  that  d d  coon  come  from,  and  what 

be  you  all  doin'  here  social  equalitying  with  him?  You 
are  a  fine  lot  of  white  gents  I  should  remark !"  Then 
turning  to  Simon,  he  said : 

"Here,  you  black  devil,  I'll  give  you  jest  one  minit 
to  hit  the  trail." 

The  men  were  all  violently  opposed  to  "nigger  equal- 
ity," which  they  very  much  feared  if  negroes  were  al- 
lowed to  reside  in  their  community;  but  none  of  them 


The  New  Life  Begins  75 

were  ready  to  back  Bud  in  his  demands,  nor  were  they 
willing  to  defend  Simon. 

Bud  repeated  his  threat,  but  Simon  did  not  budge. 

"You,  d d  nigger,  you  act  like  you  ain't  afeared  of 

me!"  he  shouted. 

"No,  mister,  I  ain't  'fraid  ob  nobody  but  God," 
quietly  replied  Simon. 

"Well,  I  ain't  afeard  of  him,"  screamed  Bud,  now 
thoroughly  beside  himself  with  rage,  "an'  I'll  jest  beat 
hell  outen  you !"  and  he  raised  his  big  fist  to  strike 
the  gray-haired  humble  old  soul,  who  did  not  wince. 

Before  the  blow  could  descend,  Peggy,  who  had  just 
come  up  with  Ruth,  unobserved  by  anyone,  so  absorbed 
were  they,  stepped  between  Whitman  and  Simon,  so 
that  she  would  receive  the  full  force  of  the  blow,  and 
Ruth  hissed  through  her  teeth  : 

"Strike  another  woman,  Bud  Whitman,  you  white- 
livered  coward." 

The  crowd  now  cried,  "Shame  !  Shame  !"  and  Whit- 
man knew  that  he  had  lost  for  this  time ;  but  as  he 
mounted  his  horse  and  rode  away,  he  turned  around  in 
his  saddle,  shook  his  fist  at  the  crowd  in  general,  and 
Simon  in  particular,  swearing  that  his  day  would  come 
and  that  soon. 


Chapter  Six 
PEGGY  FOLLOWS  HER  VISION 

ALL  great  souls  have  become  so  because  they  had 
a  vision,  believed  in  the  vision  and  lived  it.  No 
man  can  be  greater  than  his  vision,  but  every- 
one can  be  just  as  big  as  he  desires  to  be.  We  grow 
into  the  likeness  and  image  of  that  which  we  con- 
stantly hold  in  our  thoughts,  for  our  thoughts  are  the 
most  potent  forces  in  the  world. 

This  great,  vital  truth  is  found  in  all  true  religions, 
and  is  now  accepted  by  the  world's  leading  scientists, 
philosophers  and  metaphysicians.  That  it  is  scientific 
is  being  demonstrated  today  as  never  before,  and  Peggy 
Ware,  her  life  and  work  furnish  proof  on  such  a  big 
scale,  and  has  been  so  far-reaching,  that  I  am  con- 
strained to  believe  this  great  fundamental  truth  is  to  be 
an  important  factor  in  our  education  in  the  future. 

Whence  comes  this  vision ;  just  what  it  is,  and  how 
it  may  guide  us,  can,  perhaps,  best  be  told  by  a  simple 
narrative  of  Peggy  Ware's  life. 

The  Wares  moved  into  their  new  home,  the  next 
day  after  the  "house  raising." 

Wilbur  Ware  and  Simon  made  some  "Georgia"  bed- 
steads, two  in  the  big  room,  and  one  in  the  attic.  This 
"Georgia"  bedstead  was  made  by  boring  two  big  auger 
holes  in  the  wall  of  the  house,  into  which  were  driven 
two  pieces  of  timber  at  right  angles  to  each  other, 
the  free  ends  being  nailed  to  a  post  resting  on  the 
floor.  Then  slats  were  laid  from  the  outside  railing 
to  a  cleat  nailed  to  the  wall,  and  the  bedstead  was  fin- 

76 


Peggy  Follows  Her  Vision  77 

ished  and  ready  for  the  straw  tick,  upon  which  a  big 
feather  bed  was  placed  if  the  family  was  so  fortunate 
as  to  possess  one.  Most  of  the  households  in  Bucks 
Pocket  boasted  but  one  feather  bed,  which  was  used 
by  "Pa"  and  "Ma,"  while  the  children  slept  on  straw 
beds.  These  straw  ticks  were  filled  once  a  year  at 
wheat-threshing  time,  having  become  little  thicker 
than  your  hand  in  the  meantime  by  reason  of  constant 
use.  When  the  ticks  were  refilled  with  the  new,  sweet- 
smelling  straw,  the  boys  and  girls  enjoyed  a  great 
luxury. 

There  were  two  big  feather  beds  in  the  Ware  family, 
and  Peggy  insisted  that  they  be  used  by  her  father, 
Ralph  and  Virginia,  while  she  slept  on  one  of  new 
straw  given  her  by  Mrs.  Anderson. 

She  reached  her  attic  room  by  climbing  a  ladder, 
which  she  facetiously  called  her  "golden  stairway." 

Her  first  night  in  the  attic  room  was  a  memorable 
one.  The  wind  roared  in  the  forest,  and  shrieked 
shrilly  between  the  poorly  lined  cracks  in  the  walls 
of  the  house,  while  the  fine  snow  sifted  through  the 
clapboard  roof,  falling  softly  on  her  face  and  hair,  but 
there  was  a  warmth  in  her  heart  and  a  glow  in  her 
soul,  no  winter's  storm  could  extinguish. 

She  reviewed  her  past  life,  every  event  standing  out 
in  bold  relief.  When  she  was  a  child  not  much  past 
ten,  she  had  attended  a  great  religious  revival,  and 
although  she  did  not  understand  the  strange  doctrine 
preached  by  the  evangelist,  there  was  awakened  in  her 
soul  a  great  longing  for  something  that  she  did  not 
understand,  and  that  the  preacher  could  not  have  ex- 
plained if  she  had  gone  to  him  in  her  perplexity. 

She  even  went  to  the  "mourner's  bench"  along  with 
many  others  whose  cries  and  moans  tortured  her  heart. 
The  preacher  told  her  to  lay  all  her  sins  on  Jesus,  and 


78  Peggy    Wars 

that  his  blood  would  wash  them  away,  and  God  would 
forgive  her  and  save  her  soul  from  Hell.  This  meant 
nothing  to  her,  for  she  felt  no  sense  of  guilt,  yet  she 
knew  there  was  an  intense  longing  for  something  about 
which  all  the  evangelist's  words  were  the  merest 
jargon. 

She  went  to  her  mother  in  her  perplexity,  and  there 
she  found  one  who  understood  and  could  teach  her. 

"It  is  the  cry  of  your  soul  to  God,  my  daughter," 
her  mother  had  told  her.  "You  are  very  young  to  feel 
this  urge  of  the  soul,  but  I  am  not  surprised.  I  have 
always  felt  that  you  are  much  further  along  life's  jour- 
ney than  most  people.  Souls  that  have  experienced 
much  in  the  past,  feel  this  urge  very  early  in  life. 

"David  likened  this  longing  to  the  panting  of  the 
thirsty,  hunted  hart  for  the  water  brook.  It  is  in- 
stinctive in  every  human  soul,  and  some  time,  some- 
where, it  must  come  to  everyone. 

"When  once  felt,  my  child,  nothing  short  of  soul 
consciousness  and  the  spiritual  life  can  ever  satisfy. 
When  this  longing  grows  into  a  great  desire,  the  con- 
flict between  the  flesh,  or  animal  man,  and  the  soul,  or 
spiritual  man,  begins,  never  to  end,  until  there  is  a  com- 
plete victory  or  mastery." 

Peggy  remembered  asking  her  mother  what  became 
of  a  man,  if  the  animal  triumphed.  "Will  God  send 
him  to  Hell?"  she  questioned,  half  frightened. 

"I  would  be  untrue  to  myself  if  I  did  not  answer  you 
truthfully  as  I  see  the  light,  my  child.  I  believe  that 
the  soul  always  triumphs  in  the  end.  The  conflict 
may  go  on  for  countless  ages,  but  sometime,  some- 
where, the  soul  overcomes,  for  the  soul  is  God  in  us, 
and  cannot  be  conquered  by  the  animal  part  of  man. 
This  is  contrary  to  the  teachings  of  your  father's  the- 
ology, and  I  never  argue  with  him,  for  it  would  do  no 


Peggy  Follows  Her  Vision  79 

good.  I  have  faith  that  he  will  some  day  see  the  light 
and  have  a  great  and  wonderful  awakening." 

As  the  years  passed  this  longing  in  her  soul  grew 
more  intense,  but  not  until  she  stood  beside  her  moth- 
er's open  grave,  listening  to  the  words  of  Simon,  did 
the  very  heavens  seem  to  open  and  she  felt  that  her 
soul  had  found  God. 

From  that  moment  she  was  a  new  creature.  From 
doubt  and  uncertainty,  she  had  suddenly  found  peace 
and  calm  within  her  soul,  and  an  assurance  that  God 
was  with  her. 

Tonight  she  stood  again  by  the  grave  in  the  deso- 
late churchyard,  but  it  did  not  hold  her  mother.  Freed 
from  the  burdens  of  the  flesh,  the  spirit  of  her  mother 
was  with  her,  guiding  her,  pointing  to  the  vision  she 
had  seen  the  first  night  they  spent  by  the  camp  fire, 
as  they  journeyed  to  "No  Man's  Land." 

She  went  over  the  events  since  that  memorable  night, 
unusual  events,  and  felt  in  her  soul  an  assurance  of 
Divine  guidance. 

She  was  now  a  woman  with  a  mission.  Within  a 
few  weeks  she  had  leaped  over  years  of  spiritual 
growth  and  vision,  and  she  knew  she  was  standing  at 
the  threshold  of  her  life's  work.  Her  heart  beat  with 
enthusiasm,  her  soul  sang  for  joy  as  her  vision  beck- 
oned her. 

The  beginning  must  be  small,  and  many  difficulties 
encountered,  but  she  doubted  not  the  final  result. 

She  dared  not  reveal  her  vision  in  its  fullness  to 
others  at  this  time.  She  must  nurse  it  in  her  own 
heart  until  such  time  as  it  began  to  materialize  and 
bear  fruit. 

At  last  she  slept,  and  in  her  sleep  her  soul  visioned 
the  completed  work,  now  being  wrought  in  Peggy's 
spiritual  realm. 


80  Peggy    Ware 

When  she  awoke  in  the  morning",  she  looked  out  on 
a  light  fall  of  snow  that  had  covered  the  ground  dur- 
ing the  night,  but  the  clouds  were  gone,  and  the  sun 
was  bursting  over  the  eastern  wall  of  Bucks  Pocket. 

It  was  Sunday  morning,  and  after  breakfast,  she, 
Ralph  and  Virginia  went  to  the  house  commonly  called 
a  church,  where  she  was  met  by  Ruth  Anderson  and  a 
half  dozen  boys  and  girls  who  had  been  invited  by 
Ruth  to  come  to  Sunday  School.  It  was  a  novel  ex- 
perience for  them,  and  they  had  come  clandestinely, 
fearing  that  their  parents  would  not  approve,  for  the 
"hard  shell"  preacher  who  came  once  a  month  to  preach 
to  them  said  that  Sunday  Schools  were  the  work  of  the 
devil,  but  these  young  people,  not  being  very  much 
afraid  of  his  Satanic  majesty,  were  willing  to  take  a 
chance  at  meeting  him  if  he  should  happen  to  make 
his  appearance  at  one  of  his  gatherings. 

Peggy  read  to  them  out  of  her  mother's  Bible,  and 
in  a  few  beautiful  words  told  them  what  a  fine  thing 
it  would  be  if  they  would  all  live  the  clean,  unselfish 
life  taught  by  Jesus. 

She  also  taught  them  a  simple  song,  and  before  she 
had  finished,  they  were  all  joining  in  the  chorus  with 
great  enthusiasm. 

She  told  them  that  she  would  open  school  in  the 
building  in  the  morning  if  she  could  obtain  Mr.  And- 
erson's permission,  as  she  understood  that  the  house 
stood  on  his  land. 

She  did  not  know  that  it  was  the  regular  day  for 
the  "hard  shell"  preacher,  and  was  quite  surprised 
when  some  of  the  older  men  and  women  of  the  neigh- 
borhood began  to  straggle  in,  the  women  taking  their 
seats  on  one  side  of  the  house  while  the  men  sat  on 
the  opposite  side. 

Just  before  she  concluded  a  tall,  gaunt,  rawboned, 


Peggy  Follows  Her  Vision  81 

hard  faced  man  entered,  carrying  a  pair  of  "saddle 
bags"  across  his  arm.  He  looked  daggers  at  Peggy 
and  seemed  about  to  speak  to  her,  when  she  said 
sweetly : 

"I  hope  that  we  are  not  intruding,  but  we  have  been 
having  a  little  Sunday  School,  and  are  just  about 
through.  I  did  not  know  that  it  was  the  day  for 
church  service,  but  I  am  so  glad,  and  we  will  all  stay 
to  hear  you." 

At  the  words  "Sunday  School,"  the  "hard  shell" 
preacher  seemed  choking  with  rage,  and  his  church 
members  looked  at  each  other  as  if  they  were  thinking 
"what  an  awful  sin  this  young  woman  has  committed. 
Our  children  must  be  rescued  from  her  evil  influence." 

As  the  preacher  rose  to  begin  his  service,  Cliff  And- 
erson dropped  in,  an  almost  unheard  of  thing  for  him 
to  do,  and  the  preacher  felt  flattered  by  his  presence. 

Anderson  had  overheard  Ruth  tell  her  mother  that 
Peggy  was  going  to  have  Sunday  School,  and  that  she 
intended  to  be  present.  So  Cliff  Anderson,  ashamed 
to  let  his  wife  know  of  his  weakness,  slipped  off  like 
a  big,  bashful  boy,  to  see  what  Peggy's  Sunday  School 
was  like. 

Already  Peggy  had  a  power  over  this  strong  man, 
that  he  would  have  been  ashamed  to  acknowledge  to 
himself,  and  as  he  tramped  the  mile  through  the  snow 
to  the  old  weather-beaten,  desolate-looking  "Church 
house,"  he  kept  saying  to  himself: 

"It's  nuthin'  but  idle  curiosity,  an'  I  won't  never 
want  to  go  no  more." 

However,  he  was  late,  and  his  curiosity  was  not 
gratified,  and  he  was  also  trapped  and  saw  no  way  of 
retreat.  He  settled  down  like  a  big  bear  to  listen  to 
the  sermon  that  usually  occupied  from  two  to  three 
hours. 


82  Peggy    Ware 

A  doleful  hymn  was  wailed  by  the  preacher,  a  few 
of  his  hearers  joining  in,  trailing  several  bars  behind, 
ending  each  stanza  with  a  rising  falsetto. 

Then  a  long  prayer  in  which  he  asked  for  the  de- 
struction of  the  works  of  the  devil,  and  all  those  en- 
gaged in  his  service.  Into  God's  hands  he  committed 
the  elect  in  such  unctuous  tones  that  no  one  could 
doubt  that  he  felt  that  he  had  been  called  and  chosen 
before  the  foundation  of  the  world. 

After  the  prayer  came  the  sermon.  Peggy  was 
amazed.  She  had  never  heard  anything  like  it.  It 
sounded  to  her  like  the  weird  teachings  of  some  an- 
cient priest  in  the  days  of  pre-historic  man.  As  he 
proceeded  and  warmed  up  to  his  subject,  his  voice  rose 
to  a  high  pitch,  and  the  words  poured  forth  as  if  they 
had  been  shot  from  a  catapult. 

He  held  his  right  hand  up  to  his  ear,  for  what  ap- 
parent reason  no  one.  could  tell,  unless  Ralph's  ex- 
planation was  the  correct  one  when  he  said :  "He 
shouted  so  loud  he  was  afraid  he  would  break  his  ear 
drum,  and  put  his  hand  over  his  ear  to  protect  it." 

As  he  became  exhausted  for  breath,  he  would  catch 
it  with  an  indrawing  sound,  ending  his  words  where 
he  paused  for  breath  with  an  "Ah." 

Finally  it  became  a  monotonous  sing-song  that  put 
half  his  hearers  to  sleep,  but  this  did  not  disturb  him 
any  more  than  would  have  a  dozen  squalling  babies  in 
the  house.  He  said  that  when  his  hearers  got  their  lit- 
tle vessels  full  they  could  go  to  sleep,  and  that  he  en- 
joyed crying  babies  because  it  was  good  for  his  voice, 
as  he  was  thus  compelled  to  exercise  it  by  shouting 
so  that  he  could  be  heard  above  the  screaming  brats. 

He  talked  about  God's  seed,  and  the  devil's  seed, 
saying  that  each  had  sowed  his  own  seed  and  that 
each  would  reap  his  own  harvest ;  and  that  God  had 


Peggy  Follows  Her  Vision  83 

no  chance  to  get  the  devil's  children,  and  the  devil 
could  not  get  God's  children.  He  said  that  all  of  God's 
children  were  destined  for  heaven  and  eternal  glory, 
and  the  devil's  for  hell  and  everlasting  torture.  He 
said  that  our  destiny  is  fixed  before  we  are  ever  born 
into  the  world,  and  that  even  those  who  die  in  infancy 
are  under  the  same  awful  decree,  and  that  hell  is  full 
of  infants  not  longer  than  a  span. 

Ralph  whispered  to  Peggy,  and  said:  "I  don't  see 
why  God  let  the  devil  sow  any  seed." 

Now,  almost  exhausted,  he  turned  his  rolling  eyes 
toward  Peggy,  a  dreadful  condemnation  shining  in 
them. 

"We  have  in  our  midst-ah,"  he  shouted,  "one  of  the 
devil's  agents-ah,  in  the  form  of  a  woman-ah,  teach- 
ing Sunday  School-ah,  and  the  wrath  of  God-ah  will 
visit  this  community-ah,  if  you  don't  drive  her  from 
our  midst-ah !" 

This  shot  was  too  much  for  Cliff'  Anderson.  He  had 
been  watching  Peggy's  white,  pained  face,  and  as  he 
saw  her  wince  as  though  struck  with  a  whip  and  cower 
on  the  hard  slab  bench  as  if  she  expected  the  frenzied 
preacher  to  attempt  to  carry  out  his  injunction  to  ex- 
pel her,  he  sprang  from  his  seat,  his  face  stern,  his 
voice  cold.  "Hoi  'on  thare,  Parson,  I  recon'  you  done 
finished  yore  sarmon,  an'  I  am  sayin'  the  benediction. 
You  are  all  dismissed,  an'  jackasses  won't  bray  here 
no  more  as  long  as  Cliff  Anderson  owns  this  house. 
And  there  will  be  Sunday  School  here  every  Sunday 
mornin'  if  Miss  Peggy  says  so.  This  is  her  house  to 
do  as  she  pleases  with,  an'  I  am  here  to  back  her  up. 

"I  hain't  never  seed  an  angel,  but  my  mother  used 
to  tell  me  about  'em,  but  ef  Miss  Peggy  ain't  one,  then 
I  never  'spect  to  see  one;  an'  ef  God  ever  did  send  an 
angel  anywhare  in  this  world,  he  has  sent  this  one  to 


84  Peggy    Ware; 

Bucks  Pocket,  an'  ef  he  knows  what  we  pore  devils 
are  doin'  down  here  in  this  world,  He  shore  knows  we 
need  her. 

"Meetin'  is  now  over." 

And  when  Cliff  Anderson  said  it  was  over,  the 
preacher  knew  that  it  was  time  to  take  his  "saddle 
riders,"  mount  his  old  gray  mule  and  ride  away,  feel- 
ing in  his  heart  that  he  had  been  casting  his  pearls 
before  swine,  and  that  Cliff  Anderson  and  all  Bucks 
Pocket  belonged  to  the  devil. 

When  he  had  gone,  Peggy  recovered,  and  began  to 
laugh,  a  little  hysterically  at  first,  and  then  they  all 
laughed  and  the  spell  was  broken,  and  the  spirit  of  the 
devil  that  had  been  brooding  over  the  meeting  was 
exorcised. 

"I  was  frightened  so,"  Peggy  exclaimed.  "Is  the 
man  insane,  Mr.  Anderson?" 

"Oh,  no,  Miss  Peggy,  he's  jest  preachin'  one  sort 
of  theology.  I  understan'  there  are  a  lot  of  different 
brands,  and  to  me  they  are  all  alike,  becase  I  ain't  got 
no  use  fer  none  of  'em." 

With  this,  he  introduced  everyone  to  Peggy,  and 
all  fell  instantly  under  the  spell  of  her  remarkable 
personality. 

She  asked  Anderson  if  she  could  use  the  house  for 
a  school,  and  when  told  that  it  belonged  to  her  to  do 
as  she  pleased  with,  she  said :  "Oh,  I  am  so  thankful, 
Mr.  Anderson,  and  I  will  begin  school  here  in  the 
morning." 

Ruth  clapped  her  hands,  and  said :  "I  am  coming, 
and  will  tell  every  one  I  know." 

In  a  few  minutes  the  people  had  been  lifted  from 
gloom  to  sunshine,  and  each  went  his  way  with  a  new 
hope  singing  in  his  heart.  And  in  Peggy's  soul  there 
echoed  an  anthem  of  praise  like  unto  the  music  of 
the  spheres. 


Chapter  Seven 
CLIFF  ANDERSON  ATTENDS  A  FIGHT 

BUD  Whitman  had  been  "nursing  his  wrath  to 
keep  it  warm"  since  his  encounter  with  Simon 
on  the  day  of  the  "house  raising,"  and,  in  fact, 
since  the  episode  of  the  Christmas  eve  dance  at  Cliff 
Anderson's.  He  fed  his  evil  passions  constantly  on 
the  devil's  own  fuel,  "wild  cat"  whiskey. 

Bud  had  been  a  steady  drinker  since  he  was  a  fifteen- 
year-old  lad,  and  now,  at  twenty-four,  he  could  carry 
a  bigger  load  and  walk  a  chalk  line  straighter  than  any 
man  in  Bucks  Pocket.  He  believed  in  the  potency  of 
"good  licker,"  as  he  termed  it,  and  he  could  not  under- 
stand how  anyone  could  be  a  full-fledged  man  who  did 
not  drink. 

He  possessed  a  tremendous  physique,  which  had  not 
been  seriously  impaired  by  the  abuse  he  had  given  it. 
He  was  slightly  above  six  feet,  with  broad  shoulders, 
a  neck  like  a  prize-fighter,  and  a  body  a  fit  model  for 
a  statue  of  Hercules.  At  the  log  rollings,  no  man 
could  "pull  him  down"  with  the  hand  spike,  and  many 
of  them  had  been  brought  to  their  knees  with  Bud  at 
the  other  end  of  the  "spike." 

In  a  rough  and  tumble  fight,  he  was  more  than  a 
match  for  the  best  man  in  the  community.  In  fact, 
it  was  said  by  his  admirers  that  he  had  whipped  two 
men  at  once.  Some  believed  that  he  had  a  "yellow 
streak,"  as  all  bullies  do,  and  one  old  ex-confederate 
veteran  said  that  if  he  had  to  face  cold  steel  he  would 

85 


86  Peggy    Ware 

run.  The  old  soldier,  furthermore,  said  that  when  he 
was  in  the  army,  he  observed  that  it  was  the  quiet 
man  at  home  who  loved  peace  and  always  wanted  to 
avoid  a  scrap  that  made  the  bravest  and  most  daring 
soldier,  while  the  cross-roads  bully  always  showed  the 
"white  feather"  when  forced  to  face  almost  certain 
death. 

Along  with  Whitman's  love  for  whiskey,  he  had  in- 
herited a  bitter  hatred  for  "niggers."  If  asked  for  the 
reason  of  his  antipathy,  he  could  not  have  told  you. 

"I  jest  ain't  got  no  use  for  a  d d  nigger,"  would 

have  been  the  extent  of  his  explanation.  And  this  same 
unreasonable  and  unreasoning  hatred  prevails  to  a 
great  extent  in  many  of  the  rural  districts  of  the  South. 
It  was  particularly  so  in  Bucks  Pocket,  and  so  the 
ground  was  already  well  prepared  for  Bud's  propa- 
ganda against  Simon. 

It  may  be  partially  due  to  the  fact  that  the  negroes 
before  the  war  called  all  white  people  who  did  not 
own  slaves  "po'  white  trash,"  feeling  that  they  were 
much  better  than  the  poor  whites  because  they  be- 
longed to  the  aristocracy. 

An  old  couplet  is  attributed  to  them  that  ran  some- 
thing like  this : 

"My  name  is  Sam, 

An'  I  don't  gib  a  dam, 
I'd  ruther  be  a  nigger 
Than  a  po'  white  man." 

A  little  profane,  no  doubt,  but  it  expressed  a  feeling 
more  or  less  prevalent  in  some  parts  of  the  South  be- 
fore the  great  conflict. 

Again  the  feeling  may  have  been  due  in  part  to  the 
sufferings  of  these  same  "po'  whites"  during  and  im- 
mediately after  the  bloody  conflict  between  the  States. 
For,  be  it  remembered,  that  the  "po'  white  trash"  fur- 


Cliff  Anderson  Attends  a  Fight  87 

nished  a  large  portion  of  the  soldiers  who  fought  for 
the  Southern  Confederacy,  and  they  were  such  sol- 
diers as  the  world  had  never  seen  before.  They  were 
fighting  for  a  sacred  cause,  as  they  were  told  by  their 
leaders,  the  slave-holders,  and  when  the  South  had 
grounded  her  arms,  and  the  slaves  were  freed,  and  the 
ballot  placed  in  their  hands,  these  same  "po'  whites" 
had  reached  the  conclusion  that  the  negro  was  the 
cause  of  the  war,  and  consequently  of  their  sufferings. 

Whatever  the  cause,  the  fact  remains,  and  among 
the  younger  generation  in  the  South  in  certain  com- 
munities, this  feeling  is  as  intense  today,  and  perhaps 
more  so,  than  at  any  time  during  or  just  after  the  war. 

Fired  by  that  hatred  and  stimulated  by  strong  whis- 
key, Bud  Whitman  had  organized  a  band  of  white  cap- 
pers for  the  purpose  of  hanging  Simon,  or  running 
him  out  of  the  community.  His  intention  was  really 
to  hang  him,  but  he  did  not  think  it  best  to  disclose 
this  fully  until  the  psychological  moment  arrived. 

As  a  prelude  to  his  program  he  suggested  that  they 
leave  a  written  warning  for  Simon  to  leave  the  com- 
munity, knowing  that  it  would  not  be  obeyed. 

He  said  to  his  followers  that  this  would  give  them 
c4ear  consciences  in  case  the  "coon  got  tangled  up  in 
a  rope  and  broke  his  neck."' 

Bud  was  deputized  to  write  the  warning  as  he  was 
the  only  one  in  the  plot  who  had  any  "book  larnin'." 
After  long  and  painful  labor  he  scrawled  the  following 
note,  and  that  night  stole  up  quietly  in  the  dark  and 
pinned  it  to  the  door  of  Simon's  shack : 

"NOTIS 

"We  all  agin  nigger  equalizing  an'  won't  stand  fer 
it.  So  ef  you  don't  git  befo'  temorry  nite,  we'll  rope 
you. 

"WHITE  CAPS." 


88  Peggy    Ware 

Simon  found  the  note  early  the  next  morning  and 
hastened  to  Peggy.  When  she  read  it,  her  heart  stood 
still,  and  she  went  in  great  alarm  to  her  father.  He 
had  been  sinking  further  into  the  slough  of  despond 
as  the  days  passed,  and  now  it  would  have  taken  an 
earthquake  to  arouse  him.  So  he  attempted  to  quiet 
her  fears,  and  told  her  that  it  was  only  a  practical 
joke  to  frighten  Simon,  and  that  nothing  would  come 
of  it,  advising  her  to  say  nothing  about  it,  as  it  might 
create  unnecessary  commotion. 

Silenced,  but  not  convinced,  Peggy  went  to  her 
school,  while  Simon  aided  Ware  in  his  work  of  clear- 
ing land.  As  the  day  passed  and  Peggy  enthused  over 
her  teaching,  as  she  always  did,  the  fear  at  her  heart 
for  the  safety  of  Simon  gradually  left  her,  and  by  night 
she  could  even  smile  at  the  blundering  attempt  to 
frighten  him  and  the  Ware  family. 

With  Simon  it  was  quite  different.  All  day  he  and 
Wilbur  Ware  worked  side  by  side,  rarely  speaking  a 
word,  for  Ware's  whole  manner  toward  Simon  had 
changed  since  the  death  of  his  wife.  Formerly  he 
took  a  great  pleasure  in  conversing  with  the  venerable 
old  negro,  but  now  he  maintained  a  stoical  silence 
upon  which  Simon  was  too  tactful  and  too  respectful 
to  intrude. 

He  lived  over  many  incidents  of  his  past  life,  and 
if  his  thoughts  about  the  goodness  of  God  could  have 
been  recorded  they  would  have  been  an  inspiration  to 
his  learned  white  brothers. 

Simon  felt  an  impending  danger,  but  not  for  the 
world  would  he  have  caused  anyone  a  moment's  un- 
easiness on  his  account.  He  expected  the  white  cap- 
pers to  carry  out  their  threat,  but  felt  no  fear. 

Afterward,  in  talking  to  Peggy  about  his  thoughts, 
he  said:    "I  c'ncluded  dat  it  wus  the  bes'  way  out  fer 


Cliff  Anderson  Attends  a  Fight  89 

all  ob  us,  fer  you  all  wouldn't  let  me  leab  'thout  gwine 
yoselfs,  an'  I  said  'You  mus'  stay  heah  whar  Miss  Peg- 
gy kin  lead  dese  pore  souls  out  ob  dey  sin  an'  ignance. 
an'  Simon  jest  as  ready  to  go  now  as  he  will  be  ef  he 
lib  to  be  as  old  as  Methusalum,  an'  ef  de  white  caps 
git  'im,  dey  won't  git  nuffin  but  his  ole  wore-out  body, 
an'  den  his  soul  kin  shine  widout  any  'structions." 

Peggy  was  nervous  as  night  approached,  and  even 
her  father  stirred  from  his  lethargy.  They  did  not 
retire  as  early  as  usual,  even  Ralph  and  Virginia  were 
wide-awake,  and  declared  they  wanted  to  sit  up  a  while 
longer.  Something  was  in  the  air  that  all  could  feel, 
and  no  one  could  define. 

Simon  was  one  of  the  few  negroes  who  had  donned 
the  Confederate  uniform!  and  followed  his  master, 
Captain  Lee,  to  the  army,  but  he  had  done  so  through 
his  great  love  for  his  master  and  his  wife.  Simon  was 
not  interested  in  the  conflict  further  than  to  protect  his 
"white  folks,"  as  he  fondly  called  the  Lees,  and  while 
he  had  no  desire  to  shed  the  blood  of  his  fellow  man, 
he  was  unafraid  of  danger  himself. 

All  these  years,  he  had  preserved  his  uniform  as  a 
private  soldier,  never  exhibiting  it  to  anyone  except 
the  Ware  children.  He  had  faced  death  in  this  uni- 
form many  times,  and  feeling  that  he  must  face  him 
again  tonight,  he  opened  the  box  which  he  called  his 
"chist,"  took  out  the  faded  gray,  brushed  it  as  though 
he  were  going  to  wear  it  on  some  great  occasion,  and 
put  it  on.  And  thus  he  waited  by  his  fire,  the  coming 
of  the  White  Caps,  picking  his  banjo  and  singing 
softly : 

'Tse  comin',  I'se  comin' 

Fur  my  head  is  bendin'  low. 
Ah  hear  dose  gentle  voices  callin' 
Ol'  Black  Joe." 


90  Peggy    Ware 

A  loud  knock  at  the  door  caused  him  to  lay  down 
his  banjo,  put  on  the  cap  that  belonged  to  his  uni- 
form, and  in  answer  to  a  gruff  ''Come  out  here,  nig- 
ger," he  responded : 

"Yes,  white  folks,  I'se  ready." 

It  was  a  beautiful  night,  the  full  moon  casting  its 
rays  into  the  deepest  recesses  of  the  Pocket  caused 
the  sharp  peaks  that  rose  at  various  points  along  the 
edge  of  the  valley  to  appear  like  giant  sentinels  watch- 
ing grimly  over  the  scene  below. 

The  White  Cappers  were  mounted  on  horses  and 
wore  white  caps  that  completely  covered  their  heads 
and  faces,  with  small  openings  through  which  the 
wearer  could  see.  As  they  lurked  in  the  shadows  of 
the  trees  waiting  the  commands  of  their  leader,  they 
made  a  weird,  fantastic  picture  that  might  well  cause 
the  stoutest  heart  to  quail.  If  the  White  Cappers  had 
expected  to  find  a  cowering,  cringing  old  negro,  they 
were  treated  to  a  great  surprise,  for  when  Simon 
opened  the  door  and  walked  forth  into  the  moonlight, 
he  did  so  with  a  steady  step  and  his  voice  was  with- 
out a  tremor  as  he  said : 

"Gen'men,  please  don't  make  no  noise,  case  I  hope 
you  won't  'sturb  Massa  Ware  an'  de  chilluns." 

The  leader's  reply  was  a  coarse,  uneasy  sort  of 
laugh,  for  the  serenity  of  the  old  man  nonplussed  him. 
"We'd  jest  as  soon  hang  the  ex-parson,  too,  ef  he  butts 
in !"  spoke  the  leader,  whose  voice  betrayed  Bud  Whit- 
man. 

"Why  didn't  you  leave  when  you  got  our  warnin'?" 
he  demanded. 

"Becase  I'se  a  free  American  citizen,  fearin'  God, 
servin'  my  country  an'  doin'  nobody  no  harm,  an'  doin' 
all  de  good  I  kin,  an'  ef  I  ain't  got  no  right  to  lib  heah, 


Cuff  Anderson  Attends  a  Fight  91 

den  I  got  no  home  under  de  flag,  an'  I  mout  as  well 
go  ober  yondah  whare  I'll  be  welcome." 

"All  right,  Mister  Nigger,  we'll  send  you  over  in 
three  shakes  of  a  sheep's  tail,"  said  Whitman.  Produc- 
ing a  rope  in  which  the  loop  was  already  tied,  he  threw 
it  around  Simon's  neck,  knocking  his  cap  off  as  he  did 
so,  and  started  in  the  direction  of  a  near-by  tree,  say- 
ing, "Come  on,  fellers,  we'll  string  him  up  to  that  big 
limb  yonder." 

The  riders  had  all  dismounted  by  this  time,  and 
tethered  their  horses  in  the  thicket  near  Simon's  cabin. 

As  Whitman  was  about  to  throw  the  free  end  of  the 
rope  over  the  limb,  one  of  the  white  cappers  stepped 
forward  and  said : 

"Hoi'  on  a  minit,  Bud,  I  want  to  ax  the  old  man  a 
few  questions." 

"He  ain't  a  man,"  said  Bud.  "He  is  nuthin'  but  a 
d d  nigger,  an'  we  ain't  got  no  time  fur  questions." 

Whitman,  as  usual,  was  full  of  corn  whiskey,  and  a 
good  number  of  his  followers  had  also  imbibed  freely 
for  the  occasion,  but  a  few  of  them  were  sober. 

"Wall,  I  guess  you'll  take  time,  Bud  Whitman, 
whuther  you  want  to  er  not.  I  wus  four  years  whare 
I  smelt  powder  and  faced  bullets,  fightin'  fer  the  South, 
an'  I  wore  the  same  uniform  this  old  nigger  got  on, 
an'  I  am  gwine  to  ax  him  whare  he  got  it." 

Before  Simon  could  reply,  Wilbur  Ware  and  Peggy 
appeared  on  the  scene.  Ralph  had  started  down  to 
Simon's  cabin  to  tell  him  goodnight,  as  was  his  cus- 
tom, and  seeing  the  White  Cappers  with  a  rope  about 
Simon's  neck,  he  fled  to  the  house  in  breathless  ex- 
citement, exclaiming:     "They  are  hanging  Simon!" 

"Run  for  Mr.  Anderson !"  exclaimed  Peggy,  "and 
we  will  go  to  Simon." 


92  Peggy    Ware 

Virginia  was  left  at  the  house,  crying  piteously, 
saying:  "Oh,  God,  don't  let  them  kill  Uncle  Simon"; 
while  Ralph  sped  on  the  wings  of  the  wind  to  Cliff 
Anderson's. 

Before  Ralph  had  finished  his  brief  story  Anderson 
had  seized  a  gun,  and  was  bounding  like  a  tiger  toward 
the  scene  of  danger;  and  Ruth,  deaf  to  her  mother's 
pleadings,  was  following  hard  upon  the  footsteps  of 
her  father,  leaving  Ralph  far  behind. 

The  scene  that  greeted  Wilbur  Ware  aroused  him 
from  his  lethargy,  and  galvanized  him  into  action.  At 
one  bound  he  leaped  upon  Bud  Whitman,  and  al- 
though inferior  in  strength,  the  unexpected  rush  bore 
Bud  to  the  ground,  but  only  for  a  moment.  The  young 
Hercules  threw  off  his  antagonist,  and  sprang  to  his 
feet,  exclaiming  as  he  did  so  :  "Grab  him,  boys  !"  And 
obeying  the  command  of  their  leader,  a  half  dozen  men 
seized  the  struggling  man  and  held  him,  while  one 
of  them  produced  a  rope  and  proceeded  to  "hog  tie" 
him. 

Thus  rendered  helpless,  Ware  began  to  plead  with 
the  mob.     Whitman,  thoroughly  enraged,  said: 

"Gag  him  and  shet  his  d d  mouth." 

As  no  one  offered  to  obey  this  command,  he  cut  a 
stick,  placed  it  forcibly  between  Ware's  teeth,  fastened 
a  cord  to  each  end  of  the  stick,  and  then  brought  the 
two  ends  of  the  cord  to  the  back  of  his  head  and  tied 
them.  This  accomplished,  he  once  more  seized  the 
end  of  the  rope  that  was  still  around  Simon's  neck, 
and  said  :    "Come  on  !" 

In  the  excitement  no  one  seemed  to  have  observed 
Peggy.  Acting  swiftly,  as  her  mind  always  did,  she 
determined  to  appeal  to  the  better  self  in  these  rough, 
half-drunken  men.  Mounting  a  low  stump,  so  she 
could  be  seen,  she  said : 


Cliff  Anderson  Attends  a  Fight  93 

"Men,  in  God's  name  I  command  you  to  wait  a  min- 
ute !    You  must  hear  me  for  your  own  soul's  welfare !" 

Fearing  the  result  of  her  pleading,  Bud  said  an- 
grily : 

"We  dont  want  no  petticoat  preachin'  here.  Come 
ahead,  men,  an'  let's  git  through  this  job." 

At  this  juncture,  three  or  four  men  came  to  the  res- 
cue, and  one  of  them,  speaking  for  the  others,  said : 

"Hold  on  a  minit,  boss,  an'  hear  what  the  lady  has 
to  say.  My  kids  are  gwine  to  school  to  her,  an'  they 
say  she  is  as  good  as  a  angel ;  an'  I  say  she's  gwine 
to  be  treated  like  a  lady,"  to  which  a  number  re- 
sponded:   "That's  right!  that's  right!" 

Grumbling  and  cursing,  Whitman  reluctantly  laid 
down  the  rope,  drew  a  bottle  out  of  his  pocket,  took  a 
drink,  saying:    "Cut  it  short,  Miss  Smarty." 

"I  want  to  tell  you  a  little  story,  and  I  want  you  to 
listen  to  every  word  I  say,"  and  the  music  of  her 
voice  thrilled  every  man  present. 

"Simon  belonged  to  my  grandfather  before  the  war. 
He  bought  Simon  just  after  he  and  my  grandmother 
married,  and  in  a  few  months  the  war  broke  out,  and 
my  grandfather  went  to  the  front,  and  Simon,  then  a 
young  man,  insisted  on  going  along  to  take  care  of 
"Massa-Cap'n,"  as  he  called  my  grandfather,  Ray- 
mond Lee,  who  was  a  cousin  of  General  Robert  E. 
Lee,  whom  many  of  you  followed  and  loved." 

"That  we  did ;  that's  so !"  exclaimed  some  of  the 
older  men  present. 

"My  grandfather  was  shot  down  while  leading  his 
company  in  a  desperate  charge,  and  as  he  lay  on  the 
battlefield,  the  bullets  falling  like  hail,  Simon,  facing 
what  seemed  like  certain  death,  found  him,  and  car- 
ried him  back  out  of  the  danger  zone.  His  wound 
was  a  mortal  one,  and  it  was  Simon  who  ministered 


94  Peggy    Ware 

to  him  in  his  last  hours,  and  brought  his  dying  mes- 
sage to  my  grandmother.  After  that  he  became  Gen- 
eral Stonewall  Jackson's  body  servant,  and  was  with 
that  great  Christian  soldier  when  he  passed  over  the 
river. 

"When  the  war  was  over,  he  returned  home,  no 
longer  a  slave,  but  free  to  go  where  he  pleased.  He 
chose  to  remain  with  my  grandmother,  and  my  mother, 
who  was  a  little  girl. 

"When  my  mother  grew  up  and  married  my  father, 
and  my  grandmother  died,  Simon  cast  his  lot  with 
them,  and  now  he  is  still  serving  the  grandchildren  of 
his  beloved  Captain  Lee. 

"He  is  worthy  of  the  faded  uniform  he  has  seen  fit 
to  put  on,  and  I  can  testify  that  his  life  has  been  one 
of  unselfish  devotion  to  others." 

Bud  Whitman  had  grqwn  restless.  He  felt  that  his 
followers  were  being  swayed  by  Peggy.  He  had 
passed  his  bottle  among  the  younger  men,  on  whom 
he  felt  he  could  depend  in  the  event  of  a  division  of 
sentiment,  and  he  now  prepared  to  bring  an  end  to 
Peggy's  discourse. 

Brutally  he  said  :  "All  that  stuff  is  a  d — d  lie  !  Come 
on  an'  let's  finish  our  job." 

As  the  words  "d — d  lie"  fell  from  his  lips,  a  man 
sprang  from  the  protecting  shadow  of  an  immense  oak 
and  bounded  into  the  center  of  the  group  like  a  moun- 
tain lion,  and  before  any  one  could  move,  he  leveled  a 
gun  at  Bud's  heart,  and  with  his  voice  choking  with 
rage,  hissed : 

"Take  that  back,  Bud  Whitman,  or  I'll  kill  you 
before  you  kin  say  Jack  Robinson.  Nobody  kin  call 
Miss  Peggy  a  d — d  liar  an'  git  by  with  it." 

Whitman   looked   at   the  determined   man   through 


Cuff  Anderson  Attends  a  Fight  95 

the  peep  holes  in  his  mask  and,  knowing  that  he  dare 
not  trifle  with  him,  he  said  in  an  assumed  voice : 

"You  are  mistaken  in  your  man,  pardner.  I  ain't 
Bud  Whitman,  but  I  am  willin'  to  take  back  what  I 
said  about  the  lady.  I  meant  the  nigger  was  a  d— d 
liar." 

"Hold  on  thare,  Whitman,  fur  I  know  it's  you.  He 
ain't  no  liar  either,"  said  Anderson.  "I  am  gwine  to 
tell  you  men  what  I  know. 

"I  been  standin'  thare  in  the  shader  listin'  to  Miss 
Peggy,  hopin'  that  I  would  not  have  to  butt  in,  becase 
I  don't  hunt  no  fights  ef  I  can  help  it.  My  fightin' 
days  are  most  over,  an'  I  hope  to  live  in  peace  the  rest 
of  my  time.  But  when  I  heard  her  called  a  liar,  it 
wuz  time  fur  Cliff  Anderson  to  talk. 

"I  wuz  a  soldier  myself,  and  wore  the  same  gray 
uniform  what  Simon  has  on.  I  never  knowed  until 
tonight  that  Miss  Peggy's  grandfather  wus  Captain 
Lee.  He  wus  my  captain,  too,  an'  I  wus  shot  down  by 
his  side  when  he  fell.  He  wus  leadin'  a  charge,  an' 
wus  at  least  twenty  feet  ahead  of  his  company,  an'  I 
wus  keepin'  up  with  him.  All  at  once  it  seemed  like  a 
rain  o'  fire  an'  brimstone.  I  seed  him  fall  an'  wus 
stoopin'  over  to  pick  him  up  when  somethin'  hit  me 
an'  I  dropped.  The  company  wus  driv  back  an'  thare 
we  lay  fer  a  long  time,  the  blood  a-oozin'  out,  an'  the 
sheets  o'  fire  sweepin'  over  us. 

"I  said  :  "Cap'n,  are  you  hurt  much  ?"  An'  he  says : 
"I  don't  know,  Anderson,  but  I  feel  queer,  like  it's  all 
over  with  me." 

"And  then  he  said:  "How  badly  are  you  hurt?" 
And  I  said:  "Not  much,  jest  shot  through  both  legs 
an'  one  shoulder."  Then  I  saw  a  nigger  wearin'  a 
gray  uniform  comin',  an'  lookin'  everywhere,  like  he 
wus   huntin'    somethin'.     I    thought   to   myself,   'The 


96  Peggy    Ware 

durned  fool  will  fall  in  a  minit;  becase  I  didn't  see  how 
anything  could  stand  up  in  that  hail  of  lead.  And  he 
didn't  dodge  a  single  time,  an'  I  wondered  ef  he  wus 
deaf. 

"I  had  been  callin'  fer  water,  and  Captain  Lee  said: 
'I  think  I  got  about  a  drink  in  my  canteen,  ef  you  can 
git  to  it,  becase  I  think  I  am  gwine  whare  there  is  a 
great  river  of  water  in  a  few  minutes,  becase  I  see  it, 
and  it's  beautiful.' 

"I  said,  "No,  I  won't  drink  yore  water,'  but  he  said : 
'I  am  still  your  captain  and  command  you !'  Then  I 
drank  the  water  in  his  canteen,  an'  the  next  thing  I 
knowed,  the  nigger  soldier  wus  standin'  over  us, 
savin' : 

"Bless  God,  I  done  foun'  you,  Mass  Lee.  Is  you 
bad  hurt?" 

"And  my  brave  captain  said  :  'Just  slightly  wounded, 
Simon ;  but  there  is  Mr.  Anderson,  a  brave  soldier  who 
is  badly  wounded,  take  him  to  the  rear,  and  then  come 
back  for  me.' 

"I  said,  'No,'  and  would  rather  have  died  than  leave 
him  there,  but  I  wus  too  weak  to  help  myself.  So 
when  he  said :  'Simon,  you  black  rascal,  carry  him  off 
the  field,  and  if  you  resist,  Anderson,  I'll  have  you 
court-martialed  and  shot.' 

"Simon  picked  me  up  jest  like  I  wus  a  baby  an' 
carried  me  back  to  the  stretcher  bearers,  an'  the  last 
I  ever  seed  of  him  he  wus  goin'  back  into  the  rainin' 
bullets  for  his  captain. 

"And  I  never  knowed  till  tonight  that  Simon  is  the 
man  that  carried  me  off  the  battlefield  in  his  arms,  and 
I  want  to  say  they  won't  be  no  hangin'  here  tonight, 
an'  that  Simon  won't  leave  Bucks  Pocket  till  he  is 
good  an'  ready." 


Cuef  Anderson  Attends  a  Fight  97 

The  gauntlet  was  thrown  down  to  Bud  Whitman, 
and  if  he  did  not  accept  it  his  prestige  would  be  gone 
forever. 

One  of  his  henchmen  said:  "Don't  let  him  bluff 
you,  Bud." 

For  answer  he  said:  "I  guess  this  are  a  fight  to  a 
finish.  All  of  you  who  are  fer  hangin'  the  nigger 
stand  over  here  by  me." 

About  half  of  the  crowd,  composed  of  the  young 
men,  moved  to  their  leader's  side,  while  the  older  ones, 
some  of  them  ex-confederate  veterans,  grouped  around 
Anderson. 

Grabbing  the  rope  once  more,  Whitman  said :  "Come 
on  and  let's  hang  him  quick  an'  fight  later." 

Without  a  word,  Anderson  leaped  to  Simon's  side, 
snatched  the  rope  from  Whitman's  hand,  and  removed 
the  noose  from  Simon's  neck. 

Drawing  himself  up  to  his  full  height,  he  said :  "Bud 
Whitman,  if  you  lay  your  hands  on  him  again,  you 
will  have  to  whip  me." 

"An'  that's  what  I  am  gwine  to  do,  you  white-livered 
nigger  lover,"  and  with  that  Whitman  lunged  at  An- 
derson, dealing  him  an  unexpected  blow  on  the  chin. 
Before  Anderson  could  recover,  Whitman  drew  a 
"gun"  from  his  pocket. 

Ruth  had  been  a  silent  spectator  to  everything, 
watching  every  «rove  as  a  cat  would  watch  a  mouse. 
Like  a  shadow  she  had  crept  up  and  stood  just  behind 
her  father  when  Bud  struck  him.  When  Whitman 
drew  his  revolver,  Ruth  sprang  on  him  like  a  wildcat 
dropping  from  a  tree,  snatched  the  gun  from  his  hand 
and  was  in  the  act  of  shooting  him  before  he  realized 
what  had  happened.  Her  father  caught  the  hammer  of 
the  revolver  as  it  fell,  thus  saving  the  life  of  the  leader 
of  the  White  Cappers. 


98  Peggy    Ware 

One  of  Whitman's  followers  cried,  "No  shootin'; 
let  'em  fight  it  ont  fair." 

Bud  was  now  beside  himself,  and  feeling  that  An- 
derson was  no  match  for  him  physically,  he  said : 
"All  right,  old  man,  ef  you  will  lay  down  yore  gun, 
we  will  settle  it — jest  you  an'  me,  and  ef  you  whip  me 
you'll  be  the  boss,  an'  ef  I  whip  you,  we'll  hang  the 
nigger." 

"All  right,  Bud,"  responded  Anderson,  "but  I  want 
you  to  take  your  disguise  off  so  you  kin  see  what 
you're  doin',  an'  so  everybody  kin  see  yore  cowardly 
face." 

Anderson  had  already  laid  aside  his  coat,  and  with 
shirt  sleeves  rolled  up,  waited  for  his  antagonist,  who, 
feeling  that  his  attempted  disguise  was  no  longer 
worth  while,  took  off  his  mask,  threw  aside  his  coat 
and  hat,  and  ran  at  Anderson,  striking  out  furiously 
and  blindly. 

Anderson  parried  his  blows,  and  delivered  one 
straight  from  the  shoulder  squarely  on  Whitman's  jaw. 
It  staggered  him,  and  increased  his  rage.  Again  he 
plunged,  and  this  time  caught  the  elder  man  in  his 
powerful  arms,  and  in  another  moment  they  were  roll- 
ing on  the  ground,  Whitman  fighting  furiously,  raining 
blow  after  blow  on  the  face  of  Anderson,  who  seemed 
to  be  at  the  mercy  of  the  younger  man  until  by  a 
mighty  effort  Anderson  managed  to  turn  Whitman  on 
the  bottom  and  fasten  his  powerful  grasp  on  Whit- 
man's throat.  As  he  choked  him  with  one  hand,  he 
pounded  him  with  his  free  fist,  bringing  the  blood 
every  time  his  hard,  bony  knuckles  came  in  contact 
with  Bud's  face.  Bud's  eyes  began  to  protrude  from 
their  sockets,  his  face  to  turn  black,  and  he  feebly 
whispered,  "Take  him  off." 

"Are  you  licked?"  Anderson  inquired,  as  he  tight- 


Cliff  Anderson  Attends  a  Fight  99 

ened  his  grip  on  "Whitman's  windpipe,  and  Bud,  unable 
to  even  whisper,  nodded  "Yes." 

As  the  fight  progressed  and  Ruth  was  restrained 
from  taking  further  part  in  it,  she  turned  to  Peggy,  who 
had  released  her  father  from  the  rope  and  gag  that 
bound  him,  and  was  watching  with  white,  set  face  the 
only  fight  she  had  ever  witnessed  in  her  life,  and  said  : 
"Peggy,  pray  fer  daddy,"  and  Peggy  answered: 

"I  am  praying  for  him,  Ruth,  with  every  breath." 

Two  of  the  men  carried  Bud  to  his  horse,  placed  him 
on  it,  and,  clinging  to  the  horn  of  his  saddle,  the  fallen 
bully  rode  slowly  out  of  sight. 

When  the  echo  of  his  horse's  footsteps  had  died 
away,  and  Anderson  had  gotten  his  second  wind,  he 
said : 

"Men,  take  off  your  masks,  fer  I  want  to  talk  to  you, 
an'  I  want  to  look  into  yore  eyes." 

They  all  obeyed  with  alacrity,  for  in  their  rough 
hearts  they  loved  Cliff  Anderson. 

"Boys,"  he  continued,  "I  want  to  say  jest  one  word 
more  about  Simon  and  the  nigger  folks  in  gen'ral.  For 
four  years  the  North  and  South  fought  over  them,  and 
most  of  them  staid  at  home,  worked  the  land,  took 
keer  of  the  women  and  children,  an'  in  all  that  four 
years  there  wus  never  a  nigger  outrage  on  a  white 
woman,  or  a  nigger  that  betrayed  his  master. 

"I  wus  fightin'  all  that  time,  an'  my  folks  never 
owned  any  slaves,  but  ef  they  had,  an'  they  wus  sich 
as  ole  Simon,  I'd  want  to  build  a  monyment  to  'em,  'en 
ef  I'm  livin'  when  ole  Simon  goes,  I'll  see  that  he  has 
the  biggest  tombstone  in  Bucks  Pocket. 

"Now,  all  of  you  that  are  satisfied  fer  Simon  to  stay 
here,  say  T." 

A  mighty  chorus  of  "IV  went  up  as  from  one  man. 


100  Peggy    Ware 

"Jest  one  thing  more,  men,"  he  said,  "an'  then  I'll 
quit  afore  I  git  to  be  a  stump  speaker.  You  might 
want  me  to  run  fer  the  Legislature  ef  I  git  to  be  too 
much  of  a  talker. 

"I  guess  I  been  a  sort  of  bell-wether  in  Bucks  Pocket, 
an'  I  got  a  feelin'  sense  Miss  Peggy  come  that  I  ain't 
been  settih'  a  very  good  example.  I  been  pestered  a 
lot  of  late,  an'  I'm  thinkin'  erbout  turnin'  over  a  new 
leaf,  ef  I  warn't  jest  kinder  ashamed  to,  an'  afeard 
you'd  all  laugh  at  me  an'  say  I  "had  religion,"  an'  I'd 
as  soon  be  caught  with  the  hives. 

"I  wonder  ef  you'd  all  like  to  see  things  more  de- 
center  here  in  the  Pocket?  All  of  you  what  would, 
hold  up  yore  hands."  With  one  accord  every  hand 
went  in  the  air. 

"An'  will  you  all  back  Miss  Peggy  in  whatever  she 
wants  to  do?  Ef  you  will,  take  off  yore  hats  an'  place 
yore  hands  on  yore  l\earts." 

Every  hat  came  off,  and  standing  bare-headed  in  the 
moonlight,  each  man  placed  his  free  hand  on  his  breast, 
thus  pledging  his  loyal  and  undying  support. 

Peggy,  moved  deeply  by  this  pledge  which  meant  so 
much,  coming  in  the  way  it  did,  could  only  respond: 

"I  thank  you  with  all  my  heart,  and  I  hope  that  I 
shall  prove  worthy  of  your  confidence." 

"It's  time  to  go  home  now,"  said  Anderson,  arid 
suiting  his  action  to  his  words,  he  was  shouldering  his 
gun  that  had  been  leaning  against  a  tree,  and  the 
others  were  getting  ready  to  take  their  departure, 
when  Simon  said : 

"Hole  on,  white  folks,  jest  a  minit.  I  wants  to  ax 
you  all  to  'scuse  me  fer  gibin'  you  so  much  trouble,  an' 
I  hope  it  won't  neber  happen  no  mo'." 


Chapter  Eight 

THE  MYSTERIOUS  MAN  FROM 
NOWHERE 

PEGGY'S  school  had  grown  until  the  old  "Hard 
Shell"  "meetin'  "  house  could  no  longer  accom- 
modate her  pupils.  She  had  conceived  the  idea 
of  organizing  a  department  for  the  adult  illiterates, 
many  of  them  far  past  the  meridian  of  life.  She  wanted 
to  teach  them  to  read  and  write,  and  to  instill  into 
their  minds  the  great  fundamental  principles  on  which 
she  had  founded  her  school. 

She  conid  not  talk  to  her  father  about  either  her 
plans  or  perplexities.  His  heart  was  embittered,  his 
vision  clouded.  The  foundations  of  his  old  dogmatic 
theology  had  collapsed,  and  now  he  had  gone  to  the 
other  extreme,  denouncing  the  Church,  denying  God, 
and  scoffing  at  patriotism  and  unselfishness.  This  bur- 
den she  must  bear  in  silence,  trying  to  show  him  the 
light  as  best  she  could.  There  was  little  that  she  could 
say  or  do  to  help  him,  for  he  had  reached  that  stage 
where  the  soul  must  fight  its  great  battle  without 
human  aid. 

Peggy  turned  instinctively  to  Cliff  Anderson,  the 
grim  old  King  of  the  Wild  Catters.  One  day  she  said 
to  him :  "What  are  we  going  to  do  about  more  room 
for  our  school,  Mr.  Anderson?  You  know  it  has  already 
outgrown  our  present  quarters." 

"I  don't  recon  it's  'our  school,'  Miss  Peggy,  'cause  I 
ain't  had  no  hand  in  it  yit.     It's  yore  school,  but  I  am 

101 


102    .  Peggy    Wars 

willin'  to  help  you.  Ef  you  need  more  room,  I'll  git 
the  fellers  together  and  we'll  cut  the  logs  and  build 
you  a  bigger  house." 

"Oh,  Mr.  Anderson,  you  are  just  splendid!"  Peggy 
exclaimed,  rapturously.  "Can  you  build  a  house  with 
three  room's?" 

"Well,  ef  you  need  one  that  big,  we'll  build  it,  but  I 
am  wond'rin'  how  you  gwine  to  teach  in  three  rooms 
at  once,  onless  you  can  divide  yorself  up."  The  old 
man  grinned  at  the  thought  of  this  difficulty. 

"I'll  manage  that,  Mr.  Anderson;  I  am  thinking  ot 
using  one  room  for  the  older  people — like  yourself  and 
Mrs.  Anderson. 

The  big  Wild  Catter  laughed.  He  fairly  roared. 
Peggy  had  never  heard  him  laugh  before,  and  few 
others  had  ever  had  that  privilege.  Peggy  joined  in 
his  merriment,  which  pleased  him  greatly. 

"You  don't  mean  to  teach  book  larnin'  to  old  devils 
like  me,  Jep  Carnes,  Mart  Suttles  an'  sich  like,  do  ye? 
It's  the  best  joke  I  ever  heerd  in  my  life." 

Again  he  roared  with  laughter,  and  Peggy  did  not 
interrupt  him  until  he  assumed  his  usual  stoical  calm. 

"It  may  seem  like  a  joke  to  you,  Mr.  Anderson,  but 
to  me  it's  the  most  beautiful,  the  most  wonderful  work 
I  could  possibly  undertake.  What  a  fairy  land  it  will 
open  up  for  you,  and  you  will  be  as  eager  and  enthusi- 
astic as  one  of  my  school  boys." 

"But  I  don't  see  how  you  kin  teach  so  many  folks, 
Miss  Peggy.     You  are  gwine  to  need  more  help." 

"The  teachers  will  come  as  we  need  them.  God  will 
provide  the  things  we  need  out  of  His  great  store 
house,  if  we  are  doing  His  work  and  have  faith." 

"You  are  a  funny  gal,  Miss  Peggy,  an'  I  don't  under- 
stand all  you  talk  about,  but  I  feel  somethin'  that 
makes  me  have  faith  in  you,  and  I'm  comin'  to  yore 


The  Mysterious  Man  From  Nowhere        103 

school,  an'  trust  you.  An'  I'll  round  up  every  blamed 
old  Wild  Catter  in  Bucks  Pocket,  an'  make  'em  come, 
so  they  can't  laugh  at  me.  Ef  they  is  any  laughin', 
we'll  all  laugh  together." 

It  did  not  take  long  to  build  the  three-room  log 
house,  and  to  seat  it  with  crude  desks  and  benches 
made  by  the  men.  Peggy  announced  that  on  a  certain 
Monday  morning  her  school  for  the  older  people  would 
open. 

Before  the  appointed  hour  Cliff  Anderson  and  Molly 
arrived,  followed  by  all  the  "old  Wild  Catters"  and 
their  wives  in  Bucks  Pocket.  Most  of  the  men  carried 
their  long  squirrel  rifles,  which  they  deposited  in  the 
rear  of  the  room  where  Peggy  had  erected  a  big  black- 
board. 

The  men  took  their  seats  on  one  side  of  the  room, 
while  the  women  sat  on  the  opposite  side.  Peggy 
observed  that  the  women  carried  their  snuff  boxes, 
while  most  of  the  men  were  chewing  tobacco,  but  she 
made  no  comment. 

One  of  the  men  spat  a  great  mouthful  of  tobacco 
juice  on  the  floor,  and  Anderson  saw  him.  "See  here, 
Bill  Suttles,  they  ain't  gwine  to  be  no  spittin'  on  this 
floor.  You  fellers  must  either  swaller  yore  ambeer  or 
throw  yore  cuds  outdoors.  We  ain't  gwine  to  have 
Miss  Peggy  teachin'  book  larnin'  to  a  lot  of  tobaccy 
worms.  I'll  jest  pass  the  collection  box  an'  we'll  start 
right.  'Course  the  ladies  will  keep  their  snuff,  becase 
they  don't  expectionate  like  the  men." 

So  saying,  he  picked  up  a  small  box  that  had  been 
made  to  hold  Peggy's  chalk,  and  proceeded  to  collect 
the  "cuds." 

When  he  had  performed  this  service,  throwing  his 
collection  out  in  the  yard,  and  returned  to  his  seat, 
Peggy  arose  and  said : 


104  Peggy     Ware 

"I  am  so  glad  to  see  so  many  of  my  dear  friends 
here  this  morning.  You  don't  know  how  it  fills  my 
heart  with  joy,  for  I  feel  that  we  are  starting  a  work 
here  that  will  bear  fruit  all  over  this  beautiful  land  of 
ours. 

"I  want  to  help  open  up  to  you  a  new  world  so  full 
of  wonderful  things  that  I  tremble  with  excitement  as 
I  stand  before  you.  I  know  you  will  live  to  see  the 
day  when  you  will  thank  God  for  the  step  you  are 
taking  this  morning. 

"I  am  going  to  begin  our  day's  work  just  as  we  do 
in  our  school  for  boys  and  girls.  The  first  thing  we 
do  is  to  repeat  the  preamble  to  the  Constitution  of  the 
United  States.  Not  one  of  my  boys  and  girls  had  ever 
heard  of  it  when  school  began,  but  now  they  know  it 
by  heart,  and  anyone  of  them  can  give  you  an  intelli- 
gent talk  on  its  meaning. 

"I  will  write  it  on  the  blackboard,  read  it  to  you, 
and  then  we  will  all  repeat  it  together,  very  slowly,  so 
that  we  can  think  of  its  meaning. 

Taking  a  piece  of  chalk,  she  wrote  : 

"We,  the  people  of  the  United  States,  in  order  to 
form  a  more  perfect  union,  establish  justice,  insure 
domestic  tranquility,  provide  for  the  common  defense, 
promote  the  general  welfare,  and  secure  the  blessings 
of  liberty  to  ourselves  and  our  posterity,  do  ordain  and 
establish  this  Constitution  for  the  United  States  of 
America." 

She  read  it  to  them,  and  it  did  Peggy's  heart  good 
to  see  their  intense  interest.  Then  she  said :  "We 
will  all  repeat  it  together." 

"We,  the  people,"  rang  out  the  sweet  musical  voice, 
and  men  and  women,  some  aloud,  some  in  half  whispers, 
repeated,  "We,  the  people." 

"Of  the  United  States,"  said  Peggy.    "Of  the  United 


The;  Mysterious  Man  From  Nowhere;        105 

States,"  responded  her  audience,  a  little  less  scared  by 
the  sound  of  their  own  voices. 

When  they  had  finished,  Peggy  could  see  a  new  light 
dawning  in  the  weather-beaten,  wrinkled  faces  of  these 
men  and  women  who  had  never  known  anything  but 
poverty  and  hard  work. 

"Don't  you  think  that  is  wonderful?"  asked  Peggy. 

No  one  replied,  for  all  were  too  timid  to  express  an 
opinion,  even  if  they  had  one.  Besides  the  Big  Cap'n 
had  not  spoken.  They  wanted  to  hear  what  Anderson 
had  to  say.  He  was  the  bell-wether,  and  if  he  jumped 
the  fence  most  of  them  would  follow,  or  break  their 
necks  trying. 

"I  like  the  way  it  sounds,  Miss  Peggy,"  Anderson 
declared,  "as  fur  as  I  understand  it.  It  says  'we,  the 
people.'  Does  that  mean  all  the  people,  or  jest  the 
prohibitionists,  the  rich  bugs,  the  preachers,  an'  the 
folks  that  live  in  cities  an'  make  big  wages,  wear  store 
'close',  ride  in  automobiles,  an'  laugh  at  us  when  we 
go  to  town  wearin'  our  homespun  an'  brogan  shoes, 
callin'  us  'Rubes'  an'  'Hay  Seeds'?" 

"It  means  just  what  it  says,  Mr.  Anderson.  'We,  the 
people,'  means  all  the  people — you  and  I,  and  each  one 
of  us. 

"When  this  glorious  Constitution  was  adopted,  our 
forefathers  were  thinking  of  all  the  people,  and  framed 
a  document  that  would  forever  guarantee  to  every  boy 
and  girl  the  same  equality  of  opportunity.  Under  this 
Constitution,  each  of  us  is  guaranteed  protection  in  his 
rights,  and  is  guarded  against  any  encroachments  on 
his  liberty. 

"Under  this  Constitution,  Abraham  Lincoln,  the 
railsplitter,  became  the  President  of  the  United  States, 
and  most  all  the  big  men  of  our  country  have  come 
from   the  plain,  simple  American   homes   where  they 


106  Peggy     Ware 

were  taught  to  love  God  and  revere  the  Constitution 
of  our  great  country." 

"I  use  to  sing  "We'll  hang  Abe  Lincoln  to  a  sour 
apple  tree'  when  I  wus  fightin'  fer  the  South,"  Ander- 
son declared,  "an'  I  thought  he  wus  meaner  than  the 
devil.  After  the  war  a  Yankee  told  me  Lincoln  wus 
once  a  railsplitter,  wore  home-made  close,  sold  'licker,' 
an'  never  had  no  religion,  except  to  love  the  pore  an' 
down-trodden,  an'  I  said:  'I'm  an  Abe  Lincoln  man 
frum  this  time  on,  an'  ef  my  country  ever  needs  me, 
I'll  fight  jest  as  hard  fur  her  as  I  did  fur  the  South. 

"An'  ef  the  Constitution  wus  made  fur  all  the  people, 
North  an'  South,  rich  an'  pore,  prohibitionists  an'  them 
that's  agin  prohibition,  then  I'm  fur  it,  fust,  last,  an' 
all  the  time ;  an'  I'm  glad  our  country  ain't  divided,  so 
ef  the  Constitution  is  ever  in  danger  the  North  an' 
South  kin  fight  shoulder  to  shoulder  to  defend  it. 

"What  does  it  mean  'by  securin'  the  blessings  of  lib- 
erty,' Miss  Peggy?"  the  old  man  asked  earnestly. 

"It  means  that  the  people  of  this  country  are  the 
freest  people  in  the  world,  and  that  this  freedom  can 
never  be  taken  away  from  us  as  long  as  we  uphold  the 
Constitution. 

"For  over  one  hundred  years  this  inspired  document 
has  secured  to  every  man  the  right  to  pursue  his  occu- 
pation, to  live  his  life  just  as  he  pleased  so  long  as  he 
was  decent  and  did  not  attempt  to  encroach  on  the 
rights  of  others.  And  our  posterity  for  thousands  of 
generations  will  continue  to  enjoy  these  blessings  of 
liberty,  if  we  do  not  allow  the  enemies  of  the  people 
who  are  trying  to  destroy  our  Constitution  and  set  up 
some  other  form  of  so-called  government  to  divide  our 
citizens  into  warring  classes  and  factions,  each  seeking 
some  selfish  advantage  over  the  other,  forgetting  the 
first  three  words  in  the  preamble,  'We,  the  people'." 


The  Mysterious  Man  From  Nowhere        107 

"Well,  all  I  got  to  say  about  a  feller  that  would  do 
that  is  that  he  ain't  no  good  American  an'  needs  a  visit 
from  the  Ku-Klux." 

"We  won't  Ku-Klux  them,  Mr.  Anderson ;  we  will 
educate  them,  teach  them  to  be  good  Americans. 

"There  never  was  a  time  in  the  history  of  the  world 
when  there  was  such  a  crying  need  for  genuine  men 
and  women,  educated  in  the  right  way.  The  oppor- 
tunities are  limitless,  the  harvest  is  ripe,  but  the  proper 
kind  of  laborers  are  few. 

"Our  ideals  are  all  wrong;  we  have  lost  the  vision 
of  Washington,  Jefferson,  and  Lincoln.  We  have  set 
up  a  false  standard  of  'get  more'  rather  than  'give 
more.'  In  the  mad  race,  men  have  become  blinded, 
and  they  inveigh  bitterly  against  our  country,  our  laws, 
our  Constitution.  They  curse  the  Church,  scoff  at 
Jesus  Christ,  and  deny  God. 

"I  am  going  to  try  to  sound  anew  the  old  note  of 
freedom,  of  reverence,  of  love  of  country,  love  of  God, 
love  of  our  fellow  man,  here  in  these  rugged  mountains, 
praying  that  it  may  help  kindle  afresh  the  music  of 
human  sympathy  and  Divine  love  in  the  souls  of  our 
people." 

"The  first  words  I  want  you  to  learn  to  write  are 
'God'  and  'the  Constitution,'  for  this  is  the  rock  on 
which  we  will  build  our  school  in  Bucks  Pocket. 

"The  next  part  of  our  opening  exercises  consists  in 
singing  our  national  hymn.  Our  boys  and  girls  know 
every  word  of  it,  and  it  is  wonderful  to  hear  them  sing 
it  each  morning.  I  will  sing  it  for  you,  and  by  and  by 
you  will  all  learn  it." 

Ah,  that  golden  voice.  It  might  have  proceeded 
from  the  angelic  choir.  No  wonder  these  mountaineers 
were  spellbound  as  Peggy  sang  "My  country,  'tis  of 
thee,  Sweet  land  of  liberty." 


108  Peggy     Ware 

They  had  never  heard  it  before,  and  to  them  it  was 
a  pean  of  thanksgiving,  of  love,  of  loyalty.  More  than 
one  withered  cheek  was  wet  with  tears  of  which  no 
one  seemed  ashamed. 

Then  followed  "Nearer,  my  God,  to  Thee,"  and  all 
heads  bowed  reverently  as  Peggy,  at  its  close,  repeated 
the  Lord's  prayer.  When  she  said,  "Our  Father,  who 
art  in  Heaven,"  each  felt  that  Peggy  was  really  talking 
to  God,  and  that  He  stood  there  beside  her. 
The  opening  services  concluded,  Peggy  said  : 
"We  will  now  have  our  first  lesson."  She  proceded 
to  make  the  letters  of  the  alphabet,  beginning  with  "A." 
Then  the  slow  process  of  teaching  her  "pupils"  their 
"A  B  C's"  began.  No  set  of  school  boys  or  girls  were 
ever  more  eager  to  learn  than  were  these  gray-haired 
men  and  women.  A  few  of  them  learned  surprisingly 
fast,  while  some  of  them  had  great  difficulty  in 
learning  "A." 

"Write  yore  name  on  the  board,  Miss  Peggy,"  asked 
Anderson.     "I  want  to  see  ef  it  looks  like  you." 
Smilingly  she  complied,  writing  "Peggy  Ware." 
"Well,  it  looks  like  you,"  he  said,  "but  it  ain't  half 
as  purty  as  you  are." 

"Be  ashamed  of  yoreself,  Cliff,"  scolded  his  wife,  as 
every  one  laughed,  and  Peggy  blushed. 

"Now  write  his  name,"  said  Molly  Anderson,  indi- 
cating her  husband  by  a  nod  of  the  head. 

Peggy  wrote  "Cliff  Anderson,"  and  a  murmur  of 
admiration  went  round  the  room. 

"Huh !"  exclaimed   Molly,  "  'tain't  half  as  ugly  as 

Cliff  is."     This  sally  brought  forth  a  general  laugh, 

and  in  the  midst  of  much  merriment  and  good-natured 

chaining,  Peggy  dismissed  her  pupils  for  the  day. 

Cliff  Anderson  lingered  after  the  others  had  gone. 


The:  Mysterious  Man  From  Nowhere:        109 

"I  wanted  to  tell  you,"  he  said  to  Peggy,  "that  I'm 
beginnin'  to  see  things  I  never  thought  about  before, 
an'  it  makes  me  want  to  do  somethin'  fer  our  boys  an' 
gals.  They  ain't  got  no  chance  without  some  book 
larnin',  and  all  the  book  larnin'  in  the  world  ain't  gwine 
to  make  'em  good  citizens  onless  it  is  the  right  sort. 
I  think  I  git  yore  idee,  that  they  must  larn  to  love 
their  country,  an'  to  stand  by  the  flag,  in  spite  of  the 
devil,  because  the  flag  stands  fur  liberty  an'  freedom. 
Givin'  every  one  of  these  mountain  boys  an'  gals  jest 
as  good  a  chance  in  this  world  as  the  rich  bugs'  kids — 
that  is,  ef  we  do  our  part  an'  give  'em  an  eddycation." 

"You  have  a  wonderful  grasp  on  the  truth  as  I  see 
it,  Mr.  Anderson.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  I  believe  these 
boys  and  girls  attending  the  Peggy  Ware  School  have 
an  infinitely  better  chance  in  the  race  of  life  than  the 
children  of  the  rich.  There  is  a  great,  fundamental, 
underlying  reason  for  this,  and  some  day  I  may  put  it 
into  a  book.  In  the  meantime  I  will  content  myself 
by  doing  here  what  I  think  should  be  done  in  every 
school  and  every  community  in  the  land.  We  will 
let  our  light  shine,  and  maybe  its  rays  may  guide 
others  into  the  right  way." 

"Ef  yore  dad  would  help  you,  he  could  be  a  power, 
with  all  his  book  larnin'.  'Pears  to  me  he's  gettin' 
quarer  every  day.  I  heerd  him  mutterin'  to  hisself 
t'other  day  somethin'  that  sounded  like  'victory  or 
death.'     I  wonder  what  he  meant?" 

"He  meant  that  his  soul  is  fighting  a  great  battle 
with  unbelief,  Mr.  Anderson,  and  if  his  soul  doesn't 
win  the  victory,  he  will  die.  I  know  his  soul  is  going 
to  triumph,  otherwise  I  would  not  have  the  courage  to 
endure  the  anguish  of  seeing  him  suffer.  When  the 
light  does  come,  he  will  be  a  power,  as  you  have  well 
said." 


110  Peggy     Ware 

"I  don't  know  jest  what  light  you're  talkin'  about, 
Miss  Peggy,  but  ef  it's  the  kind  o'  light  that  shines 
wharever  you  go,  then  I  hope  he'll  find  it  soon,  becase 
as  it  is  whenever  I  see  him,  I  says  to  myself,  'He's  jest 
like  a  black  cloud  risin'." 

When  Peggy  reached  home  after  her  day's  work,  she 
was  met  by  Simon,  breathless  and  in  a  greater  state  of 
excitement  than  she  had  ever  seen  him. 

"Come  to  my  cabin,  quick,  honey,"  he  said ;  "some- 
thin'  turrible  has  happened!" 

Peggy's  first  thought  was  of  her  father,  and  she 
followed  Simon,  her  heart  filled  with  fear. 

"He's  thar  on  the  cot,"  whispered  Simon.  "I  jest 
this  minit  got  heah,  an'  I'se  so  glad  you  come  when 
you  did." 

One  glance  at  the  apparently  lifeless  man  was  suffi- 
cient to  convince  Peggy  that  it  was  not  her  father. 

His  face  was  covered  with  blood,  which  had  dried 
except  where  it  still  trickled  down  in  a  tiny  stream 
from  a  great,  gaping  wound  on  his  head. 

His  raven  black  hair  was  one  mass  of  tangled  blood 
clots,  now  almost  dried,  showing  that  his  wounds  must 
have  been  received  several  hours  previously.  His 
breathing  was  scarcely  perceptible,  and  his  heart  beats 
could  hardly  be  discerned. 

Simon  had  placed  the  kettle  on  the  fire,  and  at 
Peggy's  suggestion,  he  brought  a  pan  of  warm  water, 
and  she  began  to  remove  the  blood  from  the  man's 
face  and  hair.  She  cleansed  the  wound  on  his  head, 
and  at  Simon's  suggestion  poured  into  it  a  lotion  pre- 
pared by  Simon  from  certain  "yerbs"  with  which  he 
was  familiar. 

"I  alius  keeps  it  on  hand,"  he  said,  "becase  chilluns 
lak  Ralph  an'  Virginny  is  liable  to  cut  dey  foot  or  stub 


The;  Mysterious  Man  From  Nowhere;        111 

dey  toenail  off  des  any  time,  an'  dis  is  de  bes'  medicine 
evah  poured  in  a  wound." 

Her  task  completed,  Peggy  sat  down  by  the  cot  and 
took  the  stranger's  hand  in  hers.  He  stirred  uneasily, 
and  she  felt  a  slight  pressure  on  her  hand,  but  there 
was  no  other  sign  of  consciousness. 

His  was  the  most  handsome  face  Peggy  had  ever 
seen.  It  showed  culture  and  refinement,  and  the  head 
and  features  bespoke  the  man  of  genius.  His  hands 
were  those  of  an  artist.  There  was  an  indefinable 
something  about  his  personality  that  thrilled  her  with 
a  feeling  quite  new  to  her.  The  touch  of  his  hand 
sent  the  blood  surging  through  her  veins  on  a  mad 
gallop,  causing  her  to  blush  for  shame. 

A  great  pity  filled  her  soul,  and  she  asked  Simon  if 
he  thought  they  should  communicate  with  Mr.  Ander- 
son, and  get  him  to  send  for  a  doctor. 

"It's  twenty  miles  to  de  neares'  doctah,"  said  Simon, 
"an'  he  couldn't  do  no  good  aftah  he  got  heah.  I'se 
seen  lots  ob  dem  lak  dis  in  de  army  wid  a  lick  on  de 
haid.  He'll  come  out  ob  it  in  a  few  hours  ef  we  let  him 
be  quiet  an'  gib  him  a  little  stimulant.  Ef  it'd  been  a 
niggah  hit  on  de  haid  lak  dat  it  wouldn't  nevah  have 
fazed  him,  but  a  white  gemmen's  skull  ain't  as  thick 
as  a  niggah's." 

"Tell  me  what  you  know  about  him,  Simon.  Where 
did  you  find  him,  who  is  he,  and  how  did  he  get  hurt?" 

"I  kin  only  tell  you  whare  I  find  him,  but  as  to  de 
res'  you  knowse  as  much  as  I  does.  I  wus  comin' 
back  frum  de  rivah  in  de  wagon  an'  one  ob  de  tires 
run  off  an'  I  wus  out  in  de  thicket  on  de  side  ob  de 
road  cuttin'  some  hickry  withes  to  tie  de  tire  on  wid, 
when  I  heered  somethin'  lak  a  man  groanin'.  I  fol- 
lered  de  soun'  until  I  come  to  a  big  heap  ob  leabes 
wid  bresh  piled  on  top.     I  stopped  an'  den  I  heered 


112  Peggy     Ware 

de  groanin'  agin,  an'  it  wus  right  down  undah  de  bresh 
heap.  I  frowed  it  off,  an'  rake  de  leabes  away,  an'  dar 
lay  de  pore  man.  I  picked  him  up  an'  toted  him  to  de 
wagon,  an'  des  got  heah  and  put  him  on  de  cot  when 
I  see  you  comin'  frum  school." 

"Who  do  you  suppose  committed  the  dastardly  deed, 
Simon,  and  what  could  have  been  the  motive?"  asked 
Peggy. 

"Well,  ef  I  wus  sposin',  I'd  spose  it  wus  some  of 
dese  wild  cat  fellahs  dat  thought  he  was  a  revenoo,  as 
dey  call  'em,  an'  dey  killed  him,  as  dey  beliebed.  an' 
buried  him  undah  de  leabes  an'  bresh,  aimin'  to  take 
him  to  de  Tennessee  rivah  an'  throw  him  in  when  night 
come." 

Peggy  shuddered  at  the  thought  of  the  terrible  fate 
from  which  Simon  had  rescued  the  stranger.  Ferv- 
ently she  asked  God  that  he  might  recover.  Her  very 
soul  was  calling  him  back  to  life. 

"Bettah  go  to  yore  supper,  chile.  I'll  watch  him 
while  youse  gone." 

Peggy  attempted  to  withdraw  her  hand,  but  the 
man  gripped  it  convulsively,  and  his  lips  moved  as  if 
he  were  trying  to  speak. 

"He  doesn't  want  me  to  go,  Simon,  and  if  you'll 
bring  my  supper  I'll  hold  his  hand  until  he  is  willing 
for  me  to  go,  if  it's  all  night." 

The  man's  grip  relaxed,  and  again  his  lips  moved, 
but  there  was  no  sound,  not  even  a  whisper. 

After  Peggy  had  eaten  the  food  brought  her  by  Si- 
mon, never  releasing  the  stranger's  hand  in  the  mean- 
time, her  father  came  to  the  cabin  and  took  his  seat 
without  speaking. 

Ralph  and  Virginia  came  and  peeped  in,  their  eyes 
wide  with  wonder  and  awe.    Peggy  kissed  them  good- 


The  Mysterious  Man  From  Nowhere        113 

night,  promising  to  tell  them  about  the  wounded  man 
in  the  morning. 

When  they  had  gone,  she  told  her  father  the  man's 
history  as  related  to  her  by  Simon. 

"One  of  those  revenue  officers  who  made  a  mistake 
in  coming  alone  to  Bucks  Pocket,"  her  father  com- 
mented. 

"No,  father,  he  is  not  a  revenue  officer.  I  don't 
know  who  he  is  or  what  his  mission,  but  I  am  sure  it 
has  nothing  to  do  with  the  Internal  Revenue  Service. 
Something  tells  me  that  he  is  a  great  soul,  and  was 
coming  here  for  a  purpose." 

"I  wish  I  had  your  faith,  Peggy,  but  I  have  none  in 
anybody  or  anything.  I  trust  you,  but  I  think  you  are 
deluded,  and  some  day  you  will  awake  as  I  have  done 
to  find  that  all  your  beautiful  visions  and  dreams  are 
but  castles  in  the  air  to  be  toppled  over  by  the  first 
wind  that  blows." 

"Oh,  my  father,  if  you  could  only  realize  that  my 
vision  is  the  most  real  thing  in  the  universe  to  me, 
and  that  it  is  'being  fulfilled  every  day.'  If  your  eyes 
were  open  and  you  could  see  what  I  do,  you  would 
shout  for  very  joy." 

"All  is  dark  with  me,  my  child.  There  is  not  one 
ray  of  light,  and  I  have  lost  hope.  I  feel  that  my  very 
presence  is  a  curse,  and  I  long  to  lay  it  all  down — 
to  forget — and  to  be  no  more." 

"Ah,  but  you  cannot  forget,  father ;  when  you  pass 
on  your  memory  will  be  quickened  a  thousand  fold 
and  regret  for  your  mistakes  will  be  intensified. 

"You  have  now  arrived  where  the  soul  in  its  strug- 
gle for  the  mastery  always  reaches  just  before  the 
light  comes.  The  Bible  is  full  of  cases  like  yours.  All 
great  literature  tells  of  this  travail  of  the  soul.  It  is 
the  quest  for  God." 


114  Peggy     Ware 

Her  father  was  silent,  and  Peggy  waited.  The  si- 
lence grew  into  minutes,  interrupted  only  by  the 
breathing  of  the  man  on  the  cot.    Finally  Peggy  spoke : 

"Father,  will  you  do  me  a  very  great  favor?"  she 
said,  looking  at  him  with  pained  face  and  pleading 
eyes. 

He  hesitated,  shifting  uneasily  in  his  chair,  his  eyes 
afraid  to  meet  hers. 

"What  is  it,  daughter,"  he  finally  said. 

"I  want  you  to  read  a  certain  passage  from  your 
Bible  that  Simon  has  been  keeping  for  you  until  you 
needed  it." 

At  the  word  'Bible,  'the  hard,  bitter  look  returned 
to  his  face.  "I  don't  believe  in  the  Bible,"  he  said 
harshly. 

"It's  the  only  request  I  have  made  of  you  in  months, 
father,"  the  voice  of  his  child  pleaded.  "Surely  you 
won't  deny  me." 

Simon  had  brought  the  Bible,  and  held  it  out  toward 
the  man  he  had  loved  and  followed  through  all  his 
vicissitudes.  Wilbur  Wrare  took  it  from  Simon's  hand 
reluctantly,  as  if  still  undecided. 

"Turn  to  the  story  of  Jacob's  wrestle  with  the  angel, 
father.  I  think  it  is  so  wonderful,  and  I  want  to  hear 
you  read  it  again." 

Mechanically  he  turned  the  leaves  of  the  book  until 
he  came  to  the  passage  which  was  familiar  to  him  in 
the  old  days.  In  a  hard,  unsympathetic  voice  he  be- 
gan: 

"And  Jacob  was  left  alone ;  and  there  wrestled  a 
man  with  him  until  the  breaking  of  the  day.  And 
when  he  saw  that  he  prevailed  not  against  him,  he 
touched  the  hollow  of  his  thigh;  and  the  hollow  of 
Jacob's  thigh  was  out  of  joint  as  he  wrestled  with 
him. 


The;  Mysterious  Man  From  Nowhere;        115 

"And  he  said,  let  me  go  for  the  day  breaketh.  And 
he  said,  I  will  not  let  thee  go,  except  thou  bless  me. 
And  he  said,  What  is  thy  name?    And  he  said,  'Jacob.' 

And  he  said,  Thy  name  shall  be  called  no  more  Jacob, 
but  Israel :  for  as  a  prince  hast  thou  power  with  God 
and  with  men,  and  hast  prevailed. 

"And  Jacob  asked  him,  and  said,  'Tell  me,  I  pray 
thee,  thy  name.  And  he  said,  Wherefore  is  it  that 
thou  dost  ask  after  my  name?  And  he  blessed  him 
there.  And  Jacob  called  the  name  of  the  place  Peniel, 
for  I  have  seen  God  face  to  face  and  my  life  is  pre- 
served. 

"And  as  he  passed  over  Peniel,  the  sun  rose  upon 
him." 

As  the  reading  proceeded,  his  voice  softened,  and 
a  look  of  eager  longing  took  the  place  of  bitterness 
and  despair.  The  Bible  slipped  from  his  hand  and 
fell  to  the  floor.  He  passed  his  hand  over  his  eyes  as 
though  he  were  brushing  away  something  that  clouded 
his  vision. 

Slowly  he  arose,  crossed  over  to  Peggy,  buried  his 
face  in  her  golden  hair,  saying  gently: 

"God  bless  you,  my  child." 

"He  is  waiting  to  bless  you,  father,  just  as  he  did 
Jacob.  You  are  in  the  dark  now.  That  is  where  self 
— the  animal  man  always  makes  his  last  stand.  When 
your  soul  triumphs,  you  will  see  God  face  to  face,  and 
the  sun  will  rise  upon  you." 

Without  making  any  reply,  the  gaunt  form  of  the 
storm-tossed  ex-preacher  moved  noiselessly  toward 
the  cabin  door,  and  was  lost  in  the  darkness. 

The  hours  of  the  night  crept  slowly  by.  Simon  nod- 
ded in  the  corner,  awaking  occasionally  to  replenish 
the  fire  with  sticks  of  wood  that  he  had  piled  on  the 
hearth. 


116  Peggy     Ware 

Peggy  held  the  man's  hand,  always  to  feel  that  con- 
vulsive, compelling  grip  if  she  attempted  to  withdraw 
hers.  Toward  morning  his  breathing  became  deeper, 
and  more  regular.  Finally  Peggy  dozed  for  a  mo- 
ment, but  in  that  moment  she  lived  through  many  ex- 
periences. 

Her  old  vision  came  back  to  her,  and  this  time  a 
man  had  come  to  play  a  big  part  in  her  life  and  work. 
She  saw  his  face,  and  it  was  the  face  of  the  stranger. 
They  were  happy  in  their  work,  and  a  new  world  had 
come  to  Bucks  Pocket.  The  Elysian  fields  of  Para- 
dise beckoned,  and  she  and  the  man  entered.  The 
gates  were  about  to  close,  shutting  them  in  to  an 
eternity  of  happiness,  when  a  woman  of  wondrous 
beauty  appeared  and  beckoned  to  the  man.  He  turned 
toward  her,  and  seemed  to  be  hypnotized. 

"I  must  leave  you,  darling,"  he  said,  "but  we'll  meet 
again  in  a  thousand  years." 

He  was  gone — and  the  beautiful  woman  who  had 
enticed  him  away  from  Paradise  was  Ruth  Anderson. 
Heart-broken,  Peggy  rushed  from  the  fields  of  Para- 
dise, awakening  with  a  start  to  find  her  tears  falling 
on  the  man's  face. 

The  first  rays  of  the  sun  were  shining  through  the 
cracks  in  Simon's  cabin.  The  man  on  the  cot  stirred, 
opened  his  eyes  for  a  moment,  muttering:  "I  dreamed 
I  was  being  conducted  to  heaven  by  an  angel." 

"You  are  better  now,"  Peggy  said,  placing  her  hand 
on  his  forehead.  "I  must  leave  you  for  a  little  while, 
but  Simon  will  care  for  you,  just  as  faithfully  as  I 
could.    Do  you  understand?" 

For  answer,  the  dark  eyes  opened  once  more,  and 
the  lips  answered  "Yes." 

"I  must  get  the  cob-webs  out  of  my  brain,"  said 


The;  Mysterious  Man  From  Nowhere        117 

Peggy,  as  she  emerged  into  the  morning  sunlight. 
"That  foolish  dream  has  upset  me,  and  I  am  trembling 
like  a  leaf.  A  walk  up  to  Mr.  Anderson's  will  set  me 
right.  I  will  arrange  to  have  the  stranger  properly 
cared  for,  get  my  breakfast,  go  to  my  school,  and  get 
my  feet  back  on  solid  ground." 


Chapter  Nine 
THE  WILD  CATTER  SURRENDERS 

LEAVING  the  sleeping  man  in  Simon's  care,  feel- 
ing that  he  had  safely  passed  the  crisis,  Peggy 
hurried  to  the  house  of  Cliff  Anderson. 

She  was  learning  more  and  more  to  rely  on  this 
sturdy,  forceful  man.  Beneath  his  rough  exterior  and 
brusque  speech,  she  knew  there  beat  a  heart  as  tender 
as  a  woman's  and  genuine  as  gold.  So  when  con- 
fronted by  some  new  dilemma,  she  often  went  to  him, 
and  his  native  good  sense  usually  pointed  out  the 
proper  solution. 

Cliff  Anderson  was  not  at  home,  and  his  wife  was 
plainly  embarrassed  when  Peggy  said  she  wanted  to 
see  him  about  a  matter  of  great  importance. 

"I  am  lookin'  fer  him  every  minit,"  she  said.  "He 
alius  gits  here  fer  breakfast." 

Innocently,  Peggy  inquired,  "Where  did  he  go,  Mrs. 
Anderson?" 

"I  jest  can't  tell  you,  Peggy.  Cliff  would  be  as  mad 
as  old  Dan  Tucker  ef  I  did,"  said  his  wife. 

"Come  with  me,  Peggy,"  said  Ruth,  "and  we  will 
go  and  meet  him.     I  know  the  trail  he  will  travel." 

"Don't  go  too  fur,  Ruth,"  warned  her  mother.  "You 
know  it  ain't  safe." 

Arm  in  arm  the  girls  left  the  house,  and  were  soon 
on  a  winding  trail  that  led  into  the  depths  of  the  for- 
est.   After  they  had  gone  a  short  distance,  Ruth  said : 

"Peggy,    I    am    goin'   to   tell    you    somethin'.      Pap 

118 


The  Wild  Catter  Surrenders  119 

makes  wild-cat  whiskey,  and  this  trail  leads  to  his  still. 
I  dasn't  take  you  there,  for  he  would  rather  die  than 
have  you  know  what  he  is  doin'.  Since  you  came  to 
the  Pocket,  I  been  wantin'  him  to  quit  worser  than 
anything  in  the  world,  but  he  won't  listen  to  me  an' 
ma.  He  jest  says:  'You  tend  to  yore  business,  an' 
I'll  tend  to  mine.' 

"Now  ef  you'll  go  up  thare  by  yoself,  an'  ketch  him,  I 
believe  he'll  be  so  ashamed  that  he'll  quit." 

Impulsively,  Peggy  said:  "I'll  go  by  myself.  I 
know  he  will  be  terribly  angry,  but  it  may  be  my  op- 
portunity." And  Peggy,  who  was  always  doing  what 
for  other  people  would  be  the  unusual,  set  out  on  the 
path,  and  Ruth  returned  to  the  house. 

In  a  little  while  the  trail  began  to  climb  up  toward 
the  rock  wall  of  the  Pocket,  following  a  small  stream 
that  flowed  swiftly  over  its  stony  bottom.  The  sun 
had  not  yet  penetrated  this  spot,  though  shining  on 
the  valley  below. 

It  was  now  early  Spring,  and  the  maple  trees  were 
clothed  with  green  leaves,  while  the  buds  were  burst- 
ing on  the  other  timber.  The  dogwood  bushes  were 
in  bloom,  and  also  the  redbuds,  while  the  ground  was 
carpeted  with  sweet  williams,  daisies  and  violets.  A 
hundred  different  varieties  of  birds  joined  in  one  grand 
chorus  of  praise,  led  by  an  occasional  mocking  bird 
perched  upon  the  highest  tree  tops.  The  blue  of  the 
sky  completed  the  glorious  spring  morning  which  is 
nowhere  more  beautiful  than  in  this  mountain  region. 

Peggy  was  greatly  excited.  She  was  about  to  face 
a  new  experience.  Her  pulse  thrilled,  and  her  heart 
thumped  violently. 

Her  sensations  of  the  previous  night  still  lingered 
with  her.  They  had  left  her  laboring  under  emotions 
that  were  wholly  new  to  her,  and  she  had  not  yet  been 


120  Peggy     Ware 

able  to  analyze  her  feelings.  She  "had  intended  to  tell 
Ruth  about  the  stranger,  and  of  her  watch  by  his  side 
through  the  long  night,  but  she  could  not  bring  her- 
self to  mention  it.  When  she  thought  that  Ruth  might 
soon  be  holding  his  hand  as  she  had  done,  while  she 
was  engrossed  in  her  work  of  teaching,  a  pain  clutched 
her  heart,  and  she  stopped,  steadied  herself,  took  a 
deep  draught  of  the  ozone-laden  mountain  air,  laughed 
lightly,  saying  to  herself: 

"That  foolish  dream  upset  me.  I  am  silly  to  think 
of  it  again." 

Now  the  trail  crawled  between  two  giant  boulders 
that  jutted  out  from  the  walls  that  rose  abruptly  on 
the  east  side  of  the  Pocket,  and  she  found  herself  in- 
side a  little  cove,  entirely  surrounded  by  rocky  walls, 
the  only  opening  being  by  way  of  the  trail  she  was 
traveling.  Through  this  opening  flowed  the  tiny 
stream  that  she  had  been  following. 

The  undergrowth  was  dense  in  the  cove,  and  but 
for  the  trail  she  could  not  have  made  her  way.  The 
path  wound  around  a  point  of  rocks,  and  she  stopped, 
fascinated,  for  there  just  a  few  feet  below  her,  at  the 
fountain  head  of  the  little  stream,  in  full  operation  was 
a  big  distillery,  and  Cliff  Anderson,  in  shirt  sleeves, 
his  muscular  arms  bare,  was  working  like  a  Trojan. 
For  a  moment  she  hesitated,  started  to  turn  back,  then 
summoning  all  her  courage,  she  said : 

"Good  morning,"  Mr.  Anderson. 

Without  looking  to  see  his  intruder,  he  sprang  for  his 
rifle  lying  near  at  hand,  brought  it  to  a  level  with  his 
shoulders,  and  was  drawing  a  bead  on  Peggy,  saying 
hoarsely:  "Hands  up!"  before  she  could  utter  a  sound, 
so  swift  had  been  his  action. 

"All  right,  Mr.  Anderson.     Up  they  go,"  and  suit- 


The  Wild  Catter  Surrenders  121 

ing  her  action  to  her  words,  she  raised  her  hands,  and 
began  to  laugh  in  a  frightened  sort  of  way. 

Realizing  for  the  first  time  that  it  was  Peggy,  the 
big  Wild  Catter  collapsed.  He  dropped  his  gun,  his 
knees  trembled,  his  frame  shook,  his  heart  pounded, 
and,  yielding  to  a  feeling  of  sudden  faintness,  he  sat 
down  on  a  stone,  the  big  drops  of  perspiration  stand- 
ing on  his  forehead. 

"Fur  God's  sake,  what  brings  you  here,  Miss  Peggy? 
I  shore  come  nigh  shootin'  you." 

Regaining  her  composure,  and  again  feeling  the 
thrill  of  being  in  the  lair  of  the  King  of  Wild  Catters, 
Peggy  said  lightly,  and  in  a  matter-of-fact  way : 

"I  have  been  thinking  of  giving  my  boys  a  course 
in  whiskey-making,  and  decided  to  run  up  this  morn- 
ing and  take  my  first  lesson.  Turn  about  is  fair  play, 
you  know,  Mr.  Anderson.  I  have  been  imparting  my 
knowledge  to  you,  and  now  you  must  swap  work  by 
teaching  me." 

"This  ain't  no  knowledge,  Miss  Peggy,  that  ought 
to  be  taught,  an'  you  shorely  don't  mean  what  you 
say?" 

"I  am  perfectly  sincere,  Mr.  Anderson.  I  want  to 
learn  how  it  is  done.  I  am  not  afraid  to  investigate 
anything,  and  if  I  don't  like  it  after  learning  about  it, 
I  can  leave  it  alone." 

"Wall,  I  know  you  won't  like  this  business,  Miss 
Peggy,  so  I  don't  advise  you  to  try  to  larn  it." 

"If  it  is  good  enough  for  you  to  follow,  Mr.  Ander- 
son, it  must  be  all  right,"  insisted  Peggy,  secretly 
amused  at  the  suffering  of  Anderson. 

"You  alius  have  yore  way,  an'  I've  alius  found  yore 
way  right,  so  here  goes."  So  saying,  he  proceeded  to 
explain  to  her  the  whole  process  of  making  whiskey, 


122  Peggy    Ware 

beginning  with  the  "mash"  and  ending  with  the  dis- 
tilled essence  of  the  corn. 

Peggy  was  all  enthusiasm  as  he  told  her  of  the 
workings  of  his  still,  which  he  said  was  the  most  com- 
plete one  in  a  hundred  miles. 

He  explained  that  his  helpers  had  gone  to  breakfast 
and  that  as  soon  as  they  returned,  he  would  go  to  his 
breakfast  that  Molly  would  have  waiting  for  him. 

After  Peggy's  "lesson"  was  finished,  she  said  :  "Let's 
sit  down,  Mr.  Anderson,  and  talk  a  little.  I  am  in 
trouble,  and  want  you  to  help  me." 

At  the  mention  of  trouble,  the  big  man  was  all  at- 
tention. "Ef  you're  in  trouble,  Miss  Peggy,  an'  I  kin 
help  you,  all  you  has  to  do  is  call  on  me." 

Peggy  proceeded  to  tell  him  the  story  of  the  stranger 
whom  Simon  had  found,  left  for  dead  in  the  woods, 
and  now  in  Simon's  cabin.  She  also  told  him  of  her 
vigil  through  the  night.. 

Anderson  said:     "You  ought  to  have  sent  fer  me." 

"I  came  this  morning  for  I  need  you.  We  have  no 
suitable  place  for  him  as  you  know,  and  no  one  to  look 
after  him,  as  I  am  busy  all  day  with  my  school.  I 
thought  perhaps  you  would  take  him  to  your  house." 

"I  recon'  he's  one  of  them  nosin'  revenoo  officers 
an'  some  of  the  boys  tried  to  make  a  finish  of  him,  but 
under  the  sarcumstances  they  ain't  nothing  else  to  do, 
an'  I'll  git  some  of  the  men  to  help  me  an'  we'll  bring 
him  up  to  my  house,  an'  Molly  an'  Ruth  kin  take  kere 
of  him  ontil  he  gits  well." 

At  the  thought  of  Ruth  "taking  keer"  of  the  stranger, 
Peggy  winced,  and  again  chided  herself  for  being  so 
foolish.     Changing  the  subject,  Peggy  said: 

"Mr.  Anderson,  why  do  you  make  whiskey  in  vio- 
lation of  the  law?  Is  it  because  you  need  the  money 
so  badly?" 


The  Wild  Catter  Surrenders  123 

He  scratched  his  head,  and  pondered  before  answer- 
ing. "Wall,  I'll  be  durned  ef  I  know  ezactly.  No,  I 
don't  need  the  money.  There  is  lots  of  things  I  kin 
do  to  make  money  that'll  beat  this.  I  spose  it's  the 
excitement — the  resk  I  run.  Besides  I  jest  like  to  beat 
them  revenoo  fellers." 

"Do  you  drink  the  whiskey,  yourself,  Mr.  Ander- 
son?" she  said  sweetly. 

"Law,  no,  Miss  Peggy,  I  never  tasted  a  drap  in  my 
life.     I  make  it  fer  fools  to  drink." 

"Then  you  think  no  one  but  a  fool  would  drink  the 
stuff,  do  you?" 

"Most  pintedly  I  do.  Ef  he  ain't  a  fool  afore  he 
drinks  it,  he  will  be  when  he  gits  about  a  pint  under 
his  belt." 

"Well,  then,"  persisted  Peggy,  "if  you  don't  need  the 
money,  don't  drink  it  yourself,  and  know  that  it  makes 
a  fool  of  those  who  do  drink  it,  will  you  please  tell  me 
why  you  make  it?" 

A  long  pause,  and  more  head  scratching. 

"Jest  becase  I  am  a  durned,  hard-headed  old  fool, 
an'  never  had  nobody  to  talk  to  me  before  like  you 
have." 

"And  when  are  you  going  to  quit,  Mr.  Anderson?" 
Her  eyes  searched  his  soul,  and  he  felt  it.  He  had 
vaguely  foreseen  the  time  when  he  must  meet  this 
issue. 

Nothing  could  be  hidden  from  those  eyes,  and  he 
dare  not  try  to  deceive  her  even  in  his  thoughts,  for 
he  felt  that  she  read  his  innermost  thoughts  as  readily 
as  she  could  understand  his  words. 

"This  is  kinder  sudden,  Miss  Peggy,  but  you're 
alius  doin'  things  suddin.  While  someone  else  would 
be  thinkiin'  you'd  go  an'  do  it.    That's  sorter  my  style 


124  Peggy     Ware 

too.  So  I'll  answer  yore  question  by  sayin'  'I  done 
quit'." 

Without  another  word,  he  seized  an  axe  and  began 
chopping  the  worm  of  the  big  still  to  pieces.  When 
he  had  finished,  he  turned  out  all  the  slop,  burst  the 
heads  from  the  barrels  of  whiskey,  allowing  it  to  flow 
into  the  spring  branch. 

When  his  helpers  returned  from  breakfast,  the  wreck 
was  complete.  They  were  amazed,  and  their  first 
thought  was  that  the  revenoos  had  raided  them.  When 
Anderson  said :  "I  done  it,  boys,"  they  were  quite 
sure  that  the  "Captain"  had  lost  his  mind. 

"Pile  everything  together,  put  a  lot  o'  pine  knots 
on  top,  an'  burn  her  up.  I  don't  want  nuthin'  left. 
Tomorrow  I'll  give  you  a  decent  job,"  said  Anderson. 
"I'm  gwine  to  Chattanooga  on  the  next  boat  an'  buy 
a  saw  mill,  an'  cut  up  this  timber  on  my  land,  an'  you 
kin  grind  your  axes  an'  sharpen  yore  saws  an'  go  to 
cuttin'  logs  in  the  mornin'. 

"When  you  git  through  here,  come  down  an'  I'll 
show  you  whare  I  am  gwine  to  set  the  mill,  an'  you 
kin  clear  it  off  an'  have  the  site  ready  by  the  time 
I  git  back." 

Too  astonished  to  reply,  the  men  began  to  carry  out 
his  instructions,  as  he  and  Peggy  disappeared  down 
the  trail. 

On  the  way  to  the  house,  Peggy  asked  him  what 
he  was  going  to  do  with  his  lumber. 

"I  ain't  thought  much  about  that,"  said  Anderson. 
"I  lowed  mebbe  you  could  use  some  of  it." 

"My  dreams  are  coming  true ;  my  dreams  are  com- 
ing true  !"  exclaimed  Peggy  rapturously. 

"What  dreams  you  talkin'  about,  Miss  Peggy?  You 
know  I  don't  take  much  stock  in  dreams  or  religion." 

Hastily,    enthusiastically,    she    sketched    her   plans. 


The;  Wild  Catter  Surrenders  125 

His  interest  grew  as  she  talked,  and  when  she  reached 
some  point  that  appealed  to  him  with  unusual  force, 
he  would  say:  "Let's  stop  a  minit.  I  can't  think  when 
I'm  walkin'." 

They  were  a  long  time  reaching  Anderson's  home, 
and  he  was  almost  as  full  of  Peggy's  plans  as  she  her- 
self. She  had  told  him  briefly  of  her  life  among  the 
mountain  boys  and  girls,  and  of  her  interest  in  and 
love  for  them.  She  had  seen  their  poverty,  their  ig- 
norance, and  lack  of  opportunity.  She  had  always 
wanted  to  help  them  in  some  way  to  get  an  education. 

She  told  him  that  there  was  no  better  blood  in  the 
world  than  flowed  in  the  veins  of  these  boys  and  girls 
of  the  mountains  of  the  South.  She  said  their  men- 
tality was  of  the  best,  and  all  they  lacked  was  oppor- 
tunity. 

She  told  him  of  her  dream,  when  the  spirit  of  her 
mother  appeared  to  her  and  showed  her  Bucks  Pocket. 
She  said  she  recognized  it  when  she  first  saw  it,  and 
that  everything  up  to  the  present  had  taken  place  just 
as  she  dreamed. 

Growing  in  enthusiasm,  she  sketched  a  school  where 
there  would  be  hundreds  of  boys  and  girls  gathered 
in  from  this  mountain  region — boys  and  girls  whose 
parents  were  poor,  or  who  had  no  parents,  could  find 
a  home  and  at  the  same  time  be  educated.  Not  the 
ordinary  education  of  "book  larnin',"  but  taught  all 
that  was  good  in  books  and  useful  trades  besides. 
Along  with  this  education  of  the  head  and  hand,  she 
also  proposed  as  the  most  important  thing  to  develop 
their  souls.  Not  in  a  narrow  sectarian  way,  but  in 
the  broad  principles  of  scientific  Christianity  and  right 
living. 

All  this  teaching  was  to  be  free,  or  at  such  a  nom- 
inal cost  that  the  poorest  would  not  be  debarred.     In 


126  Peggy    Ware 

no  case  would  any  boy  or  girl  be  turned  away  for  lack 
of  funds. 

Anderson  was  fascinated.  In  all  his  life  he  had 
never  thought  of  anything  half  so  big.  He  could  see 
Bucks  Pocket  the  most  famous  spot  in  the  State,  and 
the  Peggy  Ware  School  the  most  unique  institution 
in  the  land.  He  caught  the  fire  of  Peggy's  enthusiasm 
and  pledged  his  support. 

Stopping  suddenly  as  if  he  had  run  up  against  a  stone 
wall,  he  said :  "Hole  on  a  minit,  Miss  Peggy,  whare 
you  gwine  to  git  all  the  money  to  do  it  with?" 

"I  have  thought  about  that,  too,  Mr.  Anderson,  and 
asked  my  mother  that  question  in  my  dreams,  and  she 
said :  'Have  faith.'  You  know,  Jesus  said  if  we  have 
faith  as  a  grain  of  mustard  seed,  we  can  remove  moun- 
tains, and  I  believe  it,  Mr.  Anderson,  believe  it  with 
all  my  soul." 

"Wall,  I  recon'  he  know'd  what  he  wus  talkin'  er- 
bout,  an'  I  know  you  do,  an'  I  got  faith  in  you  ef  I  ain't 
in  nobody  else;  an'  I  am  jest  goin'  to  foller  you  blind, 
trustin  'to  you  an'  the  Lord." 

They  had  reached  the  house,  where  Mrs.  Anderson 
was  scolding  about  the  biscuits  getting  cold.  She  was 
greatly  surprised  when  she  saw  Peggy  with  her  hus- 
band, for  Ruth  had  not  informed  her  mother  that  she 
had  directed  Peggy  to  her  father's  still. 

"For  the  lan's  sake,"  she  exclaimed,  "Whare  did 
you  all  git  together?" 

"She  come  to  the  still  an'  captured  me,"  said  And- 
erson, "an'  then  I  destroyed  the  durned  thing  so  she 
won't  have  no  evidence  agin  me  when  she  takes  me  to 
court."  The  big  man  chuckled,  and  there  was  a  new 
light  in  his  eyes,  and  a  new  expression  on  his  face. 

Ruth  could  hardly  believe  her  ears,  but  being  re- 
assured by  a  swift  glance  at  Peggy,  she  threw  her  arms 


The  Wild  Catter  Surrenders  127 

around  her  father's  neck,  hid  her  face  on  his  shoulder, 
and  said  between  her  sobs :    "Oh,  daddy,  I'm  so  glad !" 

Looking  earnestly  into  the  clear,  fearless  eye  of  her 
spouse,  his  wife  said:  "Cliff,  you  shore  look  lak  you 
got  religion." 

"Ef  I  thought  I  had,  I'd  send  fer  the  doctor  shore," 
said  Anderson. 

Peggy  remained  to  breakfast,  and  it  was  the  most 
joyous  meal  ever  eaten  in  the  Anderson  home.  After 
it  was  finished,  Peggy  explained  to  Mrs.  Anderson  and 
Ruth  the  presence  of  the  wounded  stranger  in  Simon's 
cabin,  and  that  Mr.  Anderson  had  agreed  to  give  him 
shelter  until  he  was  able  to  travel. 

Ruth  and  her  mother  were  in  hearty  accord  with  the 
suggestion,  and  while  Anderson  and  some  men  that 
he  had  summoned  prepared  a  litter,  Ruth  and  her 
mother  put  the  spare  room  in  order. 

Peggy  accompanied  the  men  to  Simon's  cabin,  where 
they  found  that  Simon  had  induced  the  stranger  to 
drink  some  coffee,  but  he  was  still  but  half  conscious. 

Placing  him  gently  on  the  litter,  well  wrapped  in 
blankets,  four  men  bore  him  to  Anderson's  home,  where 
the  big  feather  bed  with  snow  white  sheets  was  in 
readiness. 

Peggy  insisted  on  accompanying  the  men,  walking 
beside  the  stretcher,  holding  the  stranger's  hand  as 
she  had  done  through  the  long  night,  feeling  again 
that  indefinable  thrill  that  she  feared,  yet  loved. 

When  he  had  been  made  as  comfortable  as  possible, 
Peggy  declared  that  she  would  be  late  at  school  and 
must  go. 

"You  better  stay  home  today  an  'take  keer  of  the 
stranger,  Ruth,"  said  her  mother,  "case  I  got  to  cook 
dinner  fer  the  men,"  and  Ruth,  already  more  interested 


128  Peggy     Ware 

in  the  mysterious  man  than  she  had  ever  been  in  any- 
one in  her  life,  eagerly  consented. 

"You'll  miss  your  lessons,  Ruth,"  weakly  suggested 
Peggy,  and  instantly  she  was  ashamed  of  herself. 

"Oh,  I'll  have  plenty  of  time  for  school  after  he's 
better,"  and.  Ruth  took  the  sick  man's  hand  in  hers, 
while  she  gently  stroked  it. 

Peggy  felt  a  lump  rise  in  her  throat,  her  face  flushed 
crimson,  her  loss  of  sleep  and  foolish  dream  had  com- 
pletely upset  her,  and  she  felt  an  unreasoning  anger 
in  her  heart  toward  Ruth. 

Ah,  Peggy,  where  are  all  your  visions  and  dreams, 
your  plans  for  the  mountain  boys  and  girls?  What 
mist  is  it  that  has  shut  out  this  beautiful  vision?  What 
thing  is  it  that  clutches  at  your  heart,  just  as  though 
you  never  had  a  vision  or  dream?  WThy  do  you  linger 
on  the  threshold  as  your  pupils  eagerly  await  your 
coming  and  wonder  why  you  are  late? 

"I  must  go  now.  Good-bye,  Ruth,"  and  Peggy  was 
gone. 

Without  taking  her  eyes  from  the  man's  face,  Ruth 
said  in  an  absent-minded  sort  of  way :  "Good-bye, 
Peggy." 

When  Peggy  reached  the  school  house,  she  had  re- 
gained her  composure.  She  was  quite  sure  now  that 
it  was  the  unusual  experiences  through  which  she  had 
been  passing,  and  her  nerves  were  a  little  unstrung. 
Yes,  and  the  dream  about  the  man — the  foolish  dream. 

When  she  told  her  pupils  "good  morning,"  there  was 
no  trace  of  her  momentary  weakness,  and  her  smile  and 
presence  brought  heaven  into  the  room. 


Chapter  Ten 
A  MAN  WITHOUT  A  NAME 

THE  days  moved  swiftly  for  Peggy  Ware,  so  filled 
was  every  hour  with  work. 

Every  morning  she  inquired  about  the  stranger, 
and  she  was  glad  when  told  of  his  gradual  improve- 
ment. She  had  not  seen  him  since  the  morning  after 
her  all  night's  vigil,  although  she  had  a  constant  de- 
sire to  see  him  again.  Why  she  hesitated  to  go  to 
the  Anderson  home  and  ask  about  him,  and,  of  course, 
see  him,  she  did  not  know.  Perhaps  it  was  the  thought 
of  Ruth  ministering  to  him  after  he  returned  to  full 
consciousness,  and  the  feeling  that  he  would  not  re- 
member or  recognize  her. 

She  tried  to  silence  her  desires  by  saying  that  he 
was  well  cared  for,  and  that  these  boys  and  girls,  as 
well  as  the  gray-haired  men  and  women  needed  all 
her  time  and  efforts. 

Cliff  Anderson's  sawmill  had  arrived,  and  the  for- 
est was  ringing  all  day  with  the  echo  of  the  axes  of  the 
choppers,  while  the  shrill  whistle  from  the  engine  sent 
a  new  thrill  to  Bucks  Pocket. 

Soon  great  stacks  of  lumber  were  piled  on  the  mill 
yard,  and  Anderson  began  to  discuss  with  Peggy  the 
next  step  in  the  plan  of  development. 

One  day  after  the  close  of  the  lesson  for  the  older 
folks,  he  lingered  for  a  talk  with  her.  He  was  un- 
usually serious,  and  his  first  words  were :    "I  got  a  big 

129 


130  Peggy    Ware 

idy,  I  b'lieve,  Miss  Peggy,  an'  I  want  to  see  whut  you 
think  about  it. 

"You  know  I  own  a  whole  pacel  of  fine  timber  land 
here  in  the  Pocket,  and  when  the  timber  is  cut  off,  it 
is  as  good  farmin'  land  as  a  crow  ever  flew  over.  I 
set  my  saw  mill  in  the  center  of  one  tract  that  has 
about  a  thousand  acres,  an'  I  jest  got  a  hunch  to  deed 
it,  saw  mill  an'  all,  to  the  Peggy  Ware  School  an'  then 
be  yore  boss  of  the  saw  mill  ef  you'll  have  me." 

"Oh,  Mr.  Anderson,  you  are  the  most  wonderful  man 
I  ever  knew,"  warmly  exclaimed  Peggy.  "You  are 
one  of  God's  noblemen,  and  I  can't  find  words  to  thank 
you.  Of  course,  you  know  that  I  could  not  accept 
this  for  myself,  and  if  you  insist  on  making  the  gift 
we  will  incorporate  the  Peggy  Ware  School,  and  yours 
will  be  the  first  donation,  and  you  shall  be  the  first 
Chairman  of  the  Board  of  Trustees,  and  to  you,  more 
than  anyone,  will  be  .due  the  credit  for  the  success 
that  I  know  is  in  store  for  us." 

"Don't  talk  about  me  gittin'  credit,  Miss  Peggy.  I 
don't  desarve  it.  I  am  tryin'  to  pay  debts,  not  git  any 
more  credit.  I  got  more  credit  now  than  I  could  pay 
ef  I  lived  to  be  a  hundred.  Why  I  paid  fer  all  this 
land  with  money  I  got  fer  wild  cat  licker,  an'  it  don't 
raley  belong  to  me.  I  been  lyin'  awake  at  nights  think- 
in'  about  it,  and  thinkin'  lots  of  things  that  I  wouldn't 
want  even  God  to  know,  an'  I  been  wondrin  ef  they 
wus  any  way  I  could  square  accounts ;  an'  when  you 
told  me  about  edycatin'  these  boys  an'  gals,  I  said  to 
myself:  'Mebbe  I  kin  help  pay  one  of  my  debts  this 
way." 

"Let's  go  to  the  county  seat  tomorrow — it's  Satur- 
day, you  know,  and  there  won't  be  no  school,  an'  fix 
up  yore  Peggy  Ware  School  papers,  an'  Molly  an'  me 
will  make  the  deed  all  while  we  are  thare." 


A  Man  Without  a  Name:  131 

So  bright  and  early  on  the  following  Saturday  morn- 
ing, Cliff  Anderson,  Peggy  and  Molly  went  to  the 
county  seat  in  Anderson's  new  buggy,  which  he  had 
bought  at  the  time  he  purchased  the  saw  mill. 

When  they  appeared  at  the  Court  House,  there  was 
quite  a  commotion  among  the  officials.  The  loafers 
eyed  Anderson's  new  buggy  and  harness,  and  Peggy 
created  a  sensation.  Vague  rumors  had  been  filtering 
in  by  grape  vine  that  great  things  were  happening  in 
Bucks  Pocket,  but  no  one  had  been  out  to  investi- 
gate; and  when  the  King  of  the  Wild  Catters  drove 
into  town,  accompanied  by  his  wife  and  a  young 
woman  of  striking  appearance  and  unusual  personality, 
all  the  men  who  were  not  busy,  and  this  included  al- 
most every  one,  were  reminded  that  they  had  urgent 
business  at  the  Probate  Judge's  office. 

Over  in  an  alcove  corner,  the  Judge  sat  at  his  desk 
preparing  the  papers,  while  Anderson,  Peggy,  and 
Molly  waited. 

The  work,  completed,  the  Judge  congratulated  And- 
erson warmly  on  the  big  thing  that  he  had  done. 

"It  ain't  nothin',  Jedge,"  he  said.  "It's  jest  a  starter. 
We  turned  over  a  new  leaf  out  in  Bucks  Pocket,  an'  I 
want  you  to  come  out  an'  see  the  Peggy  Ware  School 
about  a  year  frum  now." 

"By  turning  over  a  new  leaf,  I  suppose  you  mean 
that  you  have  gotten  religion,  Cliff,"  said  the  Judge. 
"I  am  so  glad  to  hear  it,  for  that  is  all  you  ever  needed." 
"Say,  Jedge,  I've  alius  been  yore  friend  an'  voted 
fer  you,  but  ef  you  ever  'cuse  me  of  havin'  religion 
agin,  I'll  be  mad  as  a  wet  hen.  Why!  I'd  ruther 
have  the  seven-year  itch  than  to  ketch  religion. 

"I  know  a  preacher  that  had  it,  an'  he  said  God 
sowed  seed  an'  the  devil  sowed  seed,  an'  ef  the  devil 
sowed  me,  I  wus  bound  to  go  to  Hell,  an'  ef  God 


132  Peggy     Vv'are 

sowed  me  I'd  go  to  Heaven  ef  I  wus  as  mean  as  the 
devil. 

"Then  I  knowed  another  preacher — that  is,  he  had 
been  one — an'  he  said  he  had  found  out  they  warn't  no 
God,  an'  that  when  a  man  died  he  wus  no  more'n  a 
dead  ox. 

"An'  I  knowed  two  more  fellers  that  had  religion — 
lots  of  it.  They  would  shout  at  camp  meetin'  so  you 
could  hear  'em  a  mile.  They  wus  preachers,  too.  They 
both  had  little  pecker-wood  churches  out  on  the  moun- 
tain, an'  not  more'n  two  dozen  folks  to  hear  'em  preach. 
Well,  they  got  up  a  jint  discussion  about  baptism,  an' 
open  an'  close  communion,  an'  a  lot  more  Tommy-rot, 
an'  they  got  het  up  until  they  pulled  off  their  coats  an' 
fit  like  cats  an'  dogs,  and  their  members  got  into  the 
scrap — men  an  'women,  too — an'  it  wus  the  biggest 
hair-pullin'  that  ever  took  place  on  Sand  Mountain. 
In  about  a  week  one  of  the  churches  burned  down,  an' 
in  a  few  days  the  other  went  the  same  way. 

"The  preachers  said  it  wus  Providence,  but  I  think 
it  wus  religion  that  done  it." 

A  crowd  had  collected  as  Anderson  delivered  him- 
self of  these  sentiments,  and  there  was  much  amuse- 
ment. 

One  of  the  leading  lawyers  said  banteringly :  "An- 
derson, you  are  getting  to  be  quite  a  stump  speaker. 
You  ought  to  make  the  race  against  me  for  the  Leg- 
islature, and  we  will  have  joint  discussions,  and  give 
the  people  lots  of  fun." 

"The  trouble  is  that  you  are  an  atheist,  and  if  you 
were  elected  you  could  not  qualify,  because  you  don't 
believe  in  God."  The  lawyer  eyed  the  crowd  for  its 
approval,  and  a  good-natured  titter  ran  round  the 
room. 

"Your'e  a — a"  and  Anderson's  face  was  white,  his 


A  Man  Without  a  Name;  133 

eyes  blazing.  "You're  mistaken,"  he  said  at  last,  re- 
gaining his  composure.  "I  believe  in  God  with  all  my 
heart,  but  not  in  this  religion  that  makes  you  mean, 
sick,  miserable,  goin'  round  with  long  faces,  tryin'  to 
look  sanctimonious  as  ef  you  could  fool  God !  No,  I 
don't  want  religion.  I  want  Christianity  lak  Miss 
Peggy  here  got. 

"I  ain't  got  it,  not  by  a  jug-full,  but  I'm  gwine  to 
have  it  or  die  tryin',  an'  ef  you  all  will  come  out  to 
Bucks  Pocket,  you  will  see  the  difference  between  re- 
ligion an'  Christianity." 

Peggy  was  greatly  embarrassed  at  this  reference  to 
her,  and  longed  to  get  away  from  the  curious  crowd, 
while  Mrs.  Anderson  kept  nudging  her  husband,  finally 
saying,  "Come  on,  Cliff,  an'  let's  go." 

"All  right,  Molly,  I  had  to  git  it  out  of  my  system, 
an'  I  want  to  say  to  Mr.  Fuller  that  I  may  make  up  my 
mind  to  run  agin  him  fer  the  Legislature,  an'  ef  I  do 
when  we  git  through,  he'll  know  he's  been  runnin' 
some." 

"Hurrah  for  Anderson !"  a  half  dozen  shouted,  and 
amidst  much  merriment,  he,  Molly  and  Peggy  started 
for  Bucks  Pocket. 

On  the  homeward  road,  Peggy's  imagination  flew 
on  the  wings  of  the  wind.  So  rapidly  was  her  vision 
materializing  that  it  startled  her.  Mentally  address- 
ing herself,  she  would  say : 

"Peggy  Ware,  who  is  doing  all  this?  I  know  it's  not 
you,  for  you  are  just  an  ordinary  sort  of  girl." 

And  then  something  within  seemed  to  say :  "It  is 
I,  Peggy  Ware — You  are  just  "me."  But  I  am  the 
real  Peggy,  and  I  am  using  you  for  my  instrument. 

"And  who  is  this  "I,"  that  you  speak  of?"  she  would 
again  question  mentally,  and  the  answer  would  come 
back : 


134  Peggy    Ware 

"I  am  spirit,  and  to  know  me  is  to  know  all  truth." 

As  she  talked  of  her  plans,  Anderson's  imagination 
galloped  along  beside  hers,  and  even  Molly  Anderson 
was  not  far  behind.  These  two  had  caught  the  in- 
fection of  Peggy's  enthusiasm. 

The  road  was  good  until  it  reached  a  point  about 
three  miles  from  Bucks  Pocket.  From  there  on  it 
could  hardly  be  called  a  road,  and  it  was  a  slow,  pain- 
ful journey  on  account  of  its  roughness.  The  buggy 
jolted,  tilted,  and  threatened  to  upset  from  time  to 
time. 

"By  George !"  impatiently  exclaimed  Anderson,  "I 
never  knowed  before  how  rough  this  road  wus.  Mon- 
day mornin'  I'll  put  a  crew  of  men  on  it  an'  we'll  build 
the  best  road  in  the  county  clean  down  through  the 
Pocket  and  on  to  the  Tennessee  River. 

"This  is  the  first  buggy  ever  owned  by  anybody  in 
Bucks  Pocket;  an'  I  re'ckon  most  of  'em  never  heerd 
of  an  automobile,  much  less  seen  one.  But  I  got  a 
feelin'  that  automobiles  frum  all  over  the  country  are 
comin'  here,  and  I  am  gwine  to  git  the  road  ready." 

"I  am  so  glad  to  hear  you  say  this,  Mr.  Anderson. 
It  inspires  such  confidence,"  exclaimed  Peggy.  "I  had 
seen  all  this  in  my  vision,  but  sometimes  I  get  afraid, 
and  don't  like  to  tell  you  all  I  see.  So  when  you  pro- 
pose doing  what  I  have  already  seen,  without  a  word 
from  me,  I  just  know  that  I  am  on  the  right  track. 

"It's  queer  how  we  are  afraid  to  have  faith,  don't 
you  think  so?"  asked  Peggy.  No  one  answered,  for  it 
was  too  deep  a  problem  for  Cliff  Anderson  and  Molly. 
Their  minds  were  dwelling  nearer  the  earth. 

Suddenly  Mrs.  Anderson  said :    "You  an'  Cliff  been 

doin'  all  the  talkin'  an'  I  wonder  ef  I  mout  butt  in?" 

"You   are   not   'buttin'   in,'   dear.     I    love   to   hear 


A  Man  Without  a  Name  135 

you  talk,  because  you  always  say  something  practi- 
cal," said  Peggy. 

"Wall,  I  wus  thinkm'  that  Cliff  is  to  be  yore  boss 
at  the  saw  mill,  buildin'  roads  and  sich  things,  but  I 
been  thinkin'  about  who's  gwine  to  do  the  cookin'  fer 
all  them  boys  an'  gals  that's  comin'  here  next  fall?" 

"I  don't  know,  Mrs.  Anderson.  I  have  been  think- 
ing that  too,  but  I  know  God  will  send  us  someone  at 
the  proper  time." 

"Have  you  prayed  fer  one?"  Molly  Anderson  asked 
eagerly. 

"I  have,"  replied  Peggy.  "And  I  have  no  doubt 
about  it.  I  ask  Him  for  everything  I  need,  and  he 
never  fails  me." 

"I  don't  know  whuther  it's  the  Lord  sendin'  me  or 
not,  Peggy,  but  I'd  like  the  job  ef  you  think  I'll  do." 

"Bless  your  heart,  I'd  rather  have  you  than  anyone 
in  the  world,"  said  Peggy,  as  she  kissed  her  until  she 
was  all  smiles  and  tears. 

"She's  the  best  cook  in  the  county,  an'  they'll  come 
to  the  Peggy  Ware  School  fer  the  grub  ef  nothin' 
else,"  proudly  asserted  Anderson. 

"Did  I  hear  you  say  the  other  day  that  you  wanted 
to  go  back  to  yore  old  home  in  the  Cumberland  Moun- 
tains an'  gether  up  a  pacel  of  them  boys'  an  gals  an' 
bring  'em  down  an'  put  'em  in  school  this  fall?"  queried 
Anderson. 

"Oh,  that  is  just  one  of  my  fancies.  Some  day  I  hope 
to  do  that,  but  not  right  away,"  answered  Peggy. 

"Wall,  I  jest  been  thinkin'  what  a  fine  trip  it  would 
be  fer  you,  Molly  an'  me.  I  used  to  go  to  Chattanooga 
to  peddle  wild-cat  whiskey,  but  I  ain't  been  thare  fer 
sixteen  years. 

"That's  when  you  brought  Ruth,"  began  Mrs.  Ander- 


136  Peggy     Ware 

son,  and  then  she  stopped  suddenly,  frightened  out  of 
her  wits  as  she  looked  at  her  husband's  stern  face. 

"Yes,"  said  Anderson,  "the  time  I  brought  Ruth  a 
big  doll,"  and  he  laughed  a  dry,  mechanical  sort  of 
laugh. 

"That's  jest  like  you,  Cliff,  alius  takin'  the  words 
outen  my  mouth,"  said  his  wife,  in  an  awkward  sort 
of  way. 

It  was  some  time  before  he  continued,  and  when 
he  did  so,  his  voice  was  a  little  shaky  as  though  he 
were  making  a  great  effort  at  self-control. 

"I  wus  jest  sayin'  when  Molly  broke  in  on  me,  that 
I  would  like  to  go  through  Chattanooga  in  a  big  auto- 
mobile— the  three  of  us,  stop  at  the  Patten  hotel,  and 
then  go  to  yore  old  home  and  go  out  in  the  mountains 
an'  gether  up  yore  boys  an'  gals,  bring  'em  all  to  Chat- 
tanooga, put  our  automobile  on  the  boat  an'  all  the 
kids,  an'  steam  down  the  old  Tennessee,  and  have  her 
dock  at  Peggy  Ware,  fer  that's  what  we  are  gwine  to 
call  our  postofnce,  an'  the  steam  boat  landin'  will  be 
named  Peggy  Ware,  too,  an'  then  we'll  march  'em 
all  up  a  fine  'cadamised  road  to  the  Peggy  Ware 
School." 

His  enthusiasm  had  returned,  his  voice  was  again 
vibrant,  and  his  eyes  spoke  eloquently. 

"You  are  not  joking,  Mr.  Anderson?"  inquired  Peg- 
gy, already  sensing  a  fulfillment  of  his  plan. 

"I  shore  ain't.  I  got  my  heart  set  on  it,  an'  we'll 
do  it." 

"My  heart  is  with  you,"  said  Peggy,  "and  Jesus  said, 
'Where  two  or  three  are  gathered  together  in  my  name, 
there  will  I  be  in  the  midst  also.'  And  I  feel  His  pres- 
ence." 

"May  I  ax'  one  question?"  queried  Mrs.  Anderson. 

Being   assured   that   she    might,    she   said:      "Cliff. 


A  Man  Without  a  Name  137 

whare  are  you  gwine  to  git  the  money  to  buy  that  au- 
tomobile? Have  you  got  any  hid  out  that  I  don't 
know  about?"  she  asked  suspiciously. 

"Of  course  not,"  he  said  laughingly.  "We'll  trust 
the  Lord  like  Miss  Peggy  does." 

After  a  pause,  during  which  Molly  seemed  to  be 
thinking  profoundly,  she  said :  "Cliff,  I  beleve  you 
about  that  money,  fer  you  never  told  me  a  lie  in  yore 
life." 

The  big  man  winced  visibly,  and  his  perturbation 
surprised  Peggy,  but  his  wife  evidently  did  not  ob- 
serve it. 

"'Spose  I  told  you  that  I  wus  the  biggest  liar  in  the 
county,  what  would  you  say?"  asked  Anderson. 

"I'd  say  you'd  told  a  whoppin'  lie,"  replied  his  wife. 

"But  ef  you  found  out  that  I  shorely  wus  the  biggest 
liar,  what  would  you  say?" 

"I'd  say  that  ef  Cliff  Anderson  is  the  biggest  liar 
in  the  county,  Molly  Anderson  is  the  biggest  fool  in 
the  county  fer  livin'  with  him  forty  years  an'  never 
findin'  it  out." 

This  sally  brought  forth  a  musical  laugh  from  Peg- 
gy, and  she  was  still  laughing  when  the  buggy  stopped 
in  front  of  Anderson's  gate.  "You  must  come  in  to 
supper,  Peggy,  an'  Cliff  can  carry  you  home  later." 

Peggy  protested,  but  it  was  of  no  use,  for  when 
Molly  Anderson  made  up  her  mind  to  have  you  dine 
with  her,  there  was  no  getting  around  it. 

Peggy's  heart  was  in  her  throat  as  she  entered  the 
house.  She  had  a  sinking  sensation  at  the  thought  of 
the  man  she  had  not  seen  since  that  memorable  night. 
She  wondered  if  he  remembered  her  at  all. 

Anderson  had  told  her  the  day  before  that  his  guest 
was  better,  that  he  could  sit  up  and  walk  around  as- 
sisted by  Ruth.    His  mind  seemed  to  be  all  right,  ex- 


138  Peggy     Ware 

cept  that  he  had  forgotten  his  name,  and  the  names  of 
everyone  he  had  ever  known,  as  well  as  the  places 
where  he  had  lived  or  visited.  He  could  not  remem- 
ber names  now  when  told  to  him. 

Peggy's  interest  had  been  keenly  aroused  by  this 
startling  information,  and  she  had  been  racking  her 
brain  for  a  possible  solution  of  the  mystery. 

"Come  into  the  spare  room,  Peggy,  while  I  bake 
some  hot  biscuits.  My  other  supper's  all  cold,"  said 
Molly  Anderson,  leading  the  way. 

Peggy  experienced  the  greatest  embarrassment  of 
her  life  as  she  stood  on  the  threshold. 

The  stranger  was  propped  in  an  easy  chair,  reading 
to  Ruth  from  one  of  Peggy's  books,  while  Ruth's  dark, 
beautiful  face  glowed  with  a  light  that  Peggy  had 
never  seen  before.  So  absorbed  were  they  that  they 
did  not  hear  Peggy  enter  the  open  door,  or  note  her 
presence  until  she  said':     "Good  evening,  Ruth." 

At  the  sound  of  her  voice,  Ruth  sprang  to  her  feet, 
and  in  another  instant,  she  was  kissing  Peggy,  ex- 
claiming, "Oh,  I  am  so  glad  to  see  you.  It  seems  like 
an  age  since  you  were  here." 

"If  you  had  been  so  very  anxious,  you  might  have 
come  to  school,"  and  Peggy  laughed  uneasily. 

"I  couldn't  leave  him,"  said  Ruth,  nodding  her  head 
toward  the  man,  who  had  lain  down  his  book.  "Be- 
sides, he's  been  teachin'  me,  and  I  am  learning,  not 
"larnin'  "  faster  than  I  did  at  school." 

"Quite  natural,"  said  Peggy,  a  twinge  at  her  heart. 

"Miss  Peggy  Ware,  this  is  Mr.  "  and  she  hesi- 
tated, evidently  embarrassed.  The  man  came  to  her 
rescue. 

"Mr.  Man  without  a  name,"  he  said  dryly.  "I  am 
pleased  to  know  you,  Miss — Miss " 


A  Man  Without  a  Name:  139 

"Oh,  just  call  me  Miss  Nobody,"  said  Peggy,  "and 
then  we  will  stand  on  an  equal  footing." 

"That's  clever,"  he  said,  "and  I  am  sure  that  we'll 
get  along  famously." 

The  man-without-a-name  wanted  to  eat  his  supper  at 
the  table  with  the  others,  but  Ruth  protested  that  he 
was  not  able  to  go.  So  she  carried  his  food  to  him 
while  the  others  ate  in  the  dining  room. 

After  supper,  the  stranger  was  much  interested  in 
Peggy's  work,  and  asked  her  many  questions.  As  she 
outlined  her  plans,  he  would  occasionally  exclaim 
"wonderful,"  "marvelous." 

In  his  excitement  he  forgot  that  he  was  still  a  con- 
valescent, and  began  to  walk  nervously  about  the 
room,  declining  Ruth's  proffered  assistance,  to  this 
young  lady's  discomfiture,  for  she  had  taken  complete 
possession  of  the  man. 

"I  wonder,"  he  exclaimed,  "if  there  was  ever  such 
another  case  as  mine.  Here  I  am  on  the  road  to  re- 
covery, even  impatient  to  be  doing  something,  and  I 
don't  know  how  or  where  to  begin.  I  don't  know  my 
name,  where  I  formerly  lived,  or  the  names  of  anyone 
I  ever  knew.  So  far  as  I  can  tell  my  mind  in  all  other 
respects  is  normal.  I  also  know  just  what  ails  me — 
just  what  caused  my  present  condition.  I  have  diag- 
nosed my  case  as  though  some  one  else  was  the  pa- 
tient. I  also  know  how  to  cure  my  trouble,  but  it  will 
take  a  long  time. 

"In  the  meantime  I  am  lost.  I  am  worse  than  the 
man  without  a  country.  I  am  a  man  without  a  coun- 
try, a  name,  or  a  friend. 

"Then,  dear  people,  the — the — "  and  he  stopped,  em- 
barrassed. "There  is  the  trouble,  you  see.  I  can't 
remember  names.  I  have  to  begin  just  where  I  started 
when  I  was  a  toddling,  lisping  infant,  but  I  know  how, 


140  Peggy     Ware 

thanks  to  my  professional  training.  What  shall  I  do 
in  the  meantime?"  he  inquired  piteously. 

"I  need  another  teacher.  Won't  you  come  and  help 
me  in  my  school,  and  perhaps  I  can  help  you."  And 
Peggy  could  not  hide  the  light  in  her  eyes,  or  sup- 
press the  tremor  in  her  voice.  Ruth,  watching  keenly, 
knew  that  Peggy's  interest  was  much  deeper  than 
she  would  have  admitted  to  her  own  soul.  However, 
Ruth  had  no  fear,  for  it  was  a  common  saying  in 
Bucks  Pocket  that  "possession  is  nine  'pints'  at  law," 
and  she  had  no  intention  of  surrendering  possession. 

Eagerly  the  man  agreed,  saying:  "I  will  be  ready 
to  begin  Monday." 

Again  Ruth  protested,  but  the  man  said :  "The 
thought  of  becoming  active,  already  makes  me  well, 
and  the  experiment  I  am  going  to  make  on  my  own 
brain,  if  successful,  will  be  a  marvelous  step  forward 
in  mind  building." 

"I  am  intensely  interested  in  mind  building,"  said 
Peggy,  "and  I  am  anxious  to  have  the  benefit  of  your 
theories  and  knowledge." 

"Gladly  will  I  teach  you  all  I  know,  and  I  hope  that 
you  will  adopt  it  in  your  class  rooms." 

So  it  was  settled  that  the  man-without-a-name 
should  be  the  first  member  of  Peggy's  faculty.  She 
did  not  get  the  full  force  of  the  idea,  until  she  had  said 
good-night  and  was  walking  home  in  the  moonlight. 
She  insisted  on  going  alone,  much  against  the  protests 
of  Mrs.  Anderson,  while  her  husband  said  :  "A  woman 
alius  has  her  way,  an'  you  might  as  well  let  Miss  Peggy 
alone  when  she  makes  up  her  mind,  fer  she's  equal  to 
two  women  when  it  comes  to  havin'  her  way." 

Peggy  was  having  her  way,  and  it  was  a  dim  road, 
with  great  trees  whose  branches  touched  across  it, 
leaving  just  an  occasional  opening  for  the  moonlight. 


A  Man  Without  a  Name  141 

But  beyond  the  road,  the  trees,  the  moonlight,  she 
saw  a  great  gate  swing  ajar,  and  beyond,  a  landscape 
whose  beauty  ravished  the  eyes,  and  whose  aroma  in- 
toxicated the  senses,  and  by  her  side  the  interesting 
stranger — and  then  she  stubbed  her  toe,  came  near 
falling,  recovered  herself,  and  exclaimed :  "That  fool- 
ish dream  again." 


Chaptee  Eleven 
THE  MIND  BUILDER  AT  WORK 

THE  growth  of  Peggy's  work  filled  her  soul  with 
a  Divine  flame  that  gave  wings  to  her  thoughts, 
and  as  fast  as  one  step  was  taken,  she  was  al- 
ready planning  for  the  next. 

A  feeling  of  guidance  by  some  intelligence  outside 
of  her  objective  self  had  taken  complete  possession  of 
her,  and  she  felt  that  there  was  no  height  that  she 
dare  not  undertake  to  climb. 

Around  her  were  limitless  possibilities  if  she  fol- 
lowed the  lead  of  this  something  that  had  been  speak- 
ing to  her  since  her  mother's  death.  She  had  learned 
that  its  voice  could  bdst  be  heard  in  the  silence.  So 
she  had  stated  times  when  she  sought  quietude  where 
she  could  hold  communion  with  this  friend  and  guide. 

One  of  her  shrines  was  the  attic  room  where  she  still 
slept.  Out  of  the  window  she  could  see  the  twinkling 
stars  and  silvery  moon,  and  as  she  lay  on  her  straw 
bed  after  a  strenuous  day's  work,  she  listened  for  the 
still  small  voice ;  the  same  voice  that  Elijah  heard 
after  the  storm  had  ceased,  and  the  fierce  conflagra- 
tion had  burned  itself  out.  It  is  the  same  voice  that 
has  spoken  to  all  who  devoutly  desire  to  hear  it  in  all 
ages  since  man  has  been  man. 

Tonight  as  Peggy  sought  her  room  after  the  day's 
experience,  she  felt  the  need  of  this  sacred  communion. 
Here  she  was  overwhelmed  with  the  evidence  that  her 
work  was  being  blessed.    Already  her  school  was  incor- 

142 


The;  Mind  Builder  at  Work  143 

porated,  possessed  a  valuable  tract  of  land,  and  her 
helpers  were  at  hand  as  fast  as  she  needed  them.  From 
a  handful,  her  school  had  already  grown  beyond  the 
capacity  of  the  old  "hard  shell  meeting  house,"  and 
now  threatened  to  tax  the  new  building. 

She  was  still  the  superintendent  of  the  Sunday 
School,  and  the  sole  teacher  as  well  as  choir  leader. 
She  also  acted  as  her  own  janitor,  for  the  school  house, 
getting  there  an  hour  before  the  arrival  of  the  first 
pupil,  so  she  could  have  half  an  hour  for  her  period  of 
communion  with  that  other  Self. 

Besides  this  work,  she  cooked  the  meals  for  the 
family,  did  much  of  the  household  work,  mended  the 
clothes,  darned  the  stockings,  and  made  the  few  gar- 
ments that  were  necessary  for  Ralph  and  Virginia. 

And  she  was  never  tired.  When  the  day's  work  was 
over,  she  was  just  as  vital,  just  as  radiant,  and  full  of 
enthusiasm  as  in  the  early  morning. 

As  she  sought  her  bed  her  soul  was  full  of  thank- 
fulness for  all  these  things.  Her  attic  room  seemed 
filled  by  some  wonderful  presence.  It  permeated  every 
fiber  of  her  being.  She  felt  it  to  her  finger  tips.  It 
thrilled  her  until  she  vibrated  in  harmony  with  the 
mysterious  presence  that  filled  her  room.  These  vibra- 
tions lengthened  and  the  trees  were  responding.  Look- 
ing toward  the  West,  she  could  see  bathed  in  the 
moonlight  the  great  spurs  of  the  Cumberland  range, 
and  they  were  answering  to  the  vibrations  she  felt  in 
her  soul. 

And  as  she  listened  to  the  great  silence,  a  mocking 
bird,  perched  just  outside  her  window,  began  to  pour 
forth  a  perfect  rhapsody  of  music  and  every  note  was 
vibrant  with  this  same  mysterious  something  that 
seemed  to  make  her  a  part  of  the  trees,  the  rocks,  the 
mountain,  and  the  notes  of  the  bird.     Swiftly  now  her 


144  Peggy    Ware 

consciousness  seemed  to  travel,  as  though  freed  from 
all  fetters,  until  she  felt  the  moon,  the  stars,  the  sky, 
the  multitudinous  worlds,  the  hosts  of  earth,  and  the 
hosts  of  heaven,  yea,  God  Himself,  were  all  united  by 
this  mysterious  something  that  penetrated  all  space 
and  filled  the  universe;  and  that  she  was  an  inseparable 
part  of  the  whole.  In  this  supreme  moment,  she  knew 
that  everything  in  the  universe  was  at  her  command 
if  necessary  to  her  work,  and  with  tears  of  joy  bath- 
ing her  cheeks,  she  fell  asleep,  saying:  "I  thank  thee, 
Father,  for  revealing  thyself  to  me." 

Monday  morning  she  was  at  the  school  house  early 
as  was  her  custom,  but  the  stranger  was  already  there 
waiting  for  her. 

Ruth  had  guided  him,  insisting  on  helping  him  over 
the  rough  places,  notwithstanding  he  insisted  that  he 
was  well. 

He  said  that  he  wanted  to  have  a  talk  with  Peggy 
before  the  opening  of  school,  and  Ruth  proposed  to 
sweep  the  house  for  Peggy,  while  she  and  the  man 
discussed  matters  that  Ruth  felt  were  too  deep  for 
her  comprehension. 

"Before  taking  up  my  work  of  teaching,  Miss " 

and  he  hesitated. 

"Miss  Nobody,"  laughed  Peggy.  "Just  call  me  that 
for  the  present." 

"I  think  I  had  better  explain  briefly  my  condition 
and  my  theories,  for  you  may  not  want  to  employ  me 
after  I  have  told  you." 

"In  the  first  place,  this  lick  on  the  head,"  pointing 
to  the  wound  now  almost  healed,  "evidently  injured  a 
certain  portion  of  my  brain  which  is  the  place  where 
we  store  away  our  names  and  names  of  people  and 
places.     No  other  portion  of  my  brain  was  injured, 


The;  Mind  Builder  at  Work  145 

and  consequently  I  possess  all  my  other  faculties. 
Now,  while  I  don't  know  who  I  am,  I  know  that  I  am 
a  brain  specialist.  I  wrote  a  book  on  the  brain  and 
its  functions,  but  I  don't  recall  the  title,  but  the  prin- 
icples  are  all  perfectly  familiar  to  me. 

"I  know  that  the  brain  is  not  the  mind  any  more 
than  the  liver  is.  I  know  that  the  brain  is  not  the 
man  any  more  than  the  hand  or  foot  is.  I  know  that 
the  entire  body  is  not  the  man,  and  all  this  I  have 
demonstrated  in  the  laboratory. 

"I  know  that  the  brain  is  simply  the  instrument 
which  I  use  for  expressing  myself,  and  that  I  can  make 
my  own  brains,  so  far  as  special  functions  or  aptitudes 
are  concerned,  if  only  I  have  a  will  strong  enough  to 
undergo  the  prolonged  exertion  required. 

"What  and  who  this  wonderful  T  is  that  can  make 
and  use  our  brains  for  his  expression,  just  how  it  is 
done  is  a  matter  of  quite  recent  discovery,  and  yet 
when  properly  understood  it  is  the  most  stupendous 
fact  that  has  ever  come  to  the  consciousness  of  man. 

"I  believe  that  when  fully  understood,  it  will  revo- 
lutionize our  educational  system,  and  increase  the 
efficiency  and  goodness  of  the  human  family  beyond 
our  wildest  dreams. 

"If  I  can  make  these  facts  the  basis  for  my  work,  I 
will  gladly  join  you.  I  will  take  your  pupils,  old  and 
young,  and  tell  them  in  simple  language  just  what  is 
taking  place  while  they  are  learning,  just  why  it  takes 
place,  and  precisely  how  to  control,  mold,  build,  and 
develop  the  brain,  or  any  separate  part  of  it  along  any 
lines  desired.  At  the  same  time  I  will  give  them  a 
practical  demonstration  in  myself  as  I  rebuild  that  area 
of  my  brain  that  was  injured  or  destroyed  by  the  blow, 
so  that  when  the  work  is  complete,  I  will  have  re- 


146  Peggy     Ware 

gained  my  ability  to  remember  names  and  places,  and 
will  regain  my  identity." 

"I  am  fascinated  with  your  ideas,  and  feel  that  you 
have  been  sent  to  do  this  special  work,"  said  Peggy. 
"I  am  in  perfect  accord  with  your  views,  and  while  I 
know  there  is  much  for  me  to  learn  along  this  line,  I 
have  some  little  insight  into  it,  not  from  the  stand- 
point of  a  trained  physician,  but — well,  I  can't  just  ex- 
plain how  it  came  to  me,"  and  she  blushed  in  confu- 
sion. "I  know  that  this  sort  of  knowledge  doesn't 
appeal  to  your  scientific  mind,"  she  said,  "but  you  must 
not  laugh  at  me." 

"I'll  not  laugh,  I  assure  you,  for  there  is  a  source 
of  wisdom  as  far  above  our  comprehension  as  the 
heavens  are  above  the  earth." 

After  thinking  a  moment,  Peggy  said :  "If  we  can 
create  or  rebuild  our  brains,  why  can't  we  do  the  same 
thing  with  any  part  .of  our  bodies?" 

Before  the  man  could  reply,  she  said :  "Who  is  it 
that  does  this  brain-building?" 

He  laughed,  but  showed  that  his  interest  in  this 
mountain  "school  marm"  was  already  keen. 

"You  are  proposing  too  many  hard  questions  at 
once,"  he  said.  "As  to  your  first  question,  I  will  con- 
fine myself  to  the  brain,  and  you  can  apply  my  theory 
to  the  entire  body  if  you  think  it  will  fit. 

"As  to  who  the  builder  is,  I  will  not  attempt  an  an- 
swer now.  Perhaps  we  may  discover  him  laboring  in 
his  workshop  some  day." 

The  pupils  were  arriving  by  this  time ;  Ruth  had 
put  the  school  house  in  order,  and  when  all  were 
seated  Peggy  made  a  neat  little  speech,  introducing 
the  first  member  of  her  faculty,  explaining  that  he 
had  forgotten  his  name  and  that  she  had  given  him  a 
new  one,  that  of  "Mr.  Mind  Builder,"  as  it  was  to  be 


The  Mind  Builder  at  Work  147 

his  work  to  tell  them  how  to  build  and  develop  their 
minds.  This  created  much  amusement,  and  "Mr.  Mind 
Builder"  was  spoken  of  in  whispers  by  the  curious 
pupils. 

The  "Mind  Builder"  gracefully  acknowledged  the 
introduction,  accepted  his  new  name,  and  in  a  few 
sentences  had  won  the  interest  and  confidence  of  every 
one  present. 

His  first  lesson  was  so  important  that  I  am  going 
to  quote  it  fully  at  the  expense  of  having  it  called  dry 
reading. 

He  drew  a  diagram  on  the  blackboard,  showing  the 
functional  areas  on  the  surface  of  the  left  hemisphere 
of  the  brain  of  a  right-handed  person,  after  which  he 
said: 

"Our  brains  consist  of  two  organs,  exactly  alike, 
called  the  right  and  left  hemispheres.  The  brains  of 
a  man  and  a  chimpanzee  are  identical,  no  one  can  tell 
the  difference. 

"The  thing  that  differentiates  man  from  other  ani- 
mals is  his  power  of  speech.  No  other  creature  has 
this  power.  But  we  are  not  born  with  the  power  of 
speech,  we  have  to  acquire  it. 

"The  infant  can  cry,  but  so  can  the  lamb ;  but  the 
infant  must  be  taught  to  talk.  And  after  it  learns  to 
talk  it  must  be  taught  to  read,  write,  play  music,  and 
all  the  other  things  known  to  educated  people. 

"Before  the  infant  begins  to  talk,  it  reaches  forth 
its  hand  for  the  things  it  wants.  If  it  uses  its  right 
hand  it  becomes  right-handed,  and  the  left  hemisphere 
of  the  brain  is  the  one  where  the  mind  makes  its  home. 
If  it  is  left-handed,  then  the  seat  of  mind  development 
is  in  the  right  hemisphere. 

"After  you  learn  to  talk,  read,  and  do  many  other 
things  by  using  the  left  brain,  and  it  is  injured  so  as 


148  Peggy     Ware 

to  become  useless  as  a  vehicle  of  expression,  you  can 
develop  the  same  power  in  the  right  brain. 

"I  maintain  that  you  can  rebuild  the  brain  after  it  is 
injured,  as  well  as  develop  the  uninjured  hemisphere. 

"Now  what  is  it  that  develops  the  brain  so  the  child 
learns  to  talk?  The  brain  doesn't  think  any  more  than 
the  hand  or  foot.  The  brain  is  not  the  mind,  al- 
though it  is  the  place  where  or  through  which  the  mind 
seems  to  function. 

"Back  of  the  brain  is  your  real  Self.  He  is  invisible, 
but  none  the  less  real.  If  he  were  not  there,  you  would 
be  no  more  than  a  monkey,  and  could  never  learn  to 
talk,  or  know  anything  that  we  call  education. 

"Your  brain  is  the  instrument  on  which  this  Real 
Self  of  yours  plays  the  music.  Your  brain  is  the  fid- 
dle and  your  Self,  the  fiddler.  If  it  were  not  for  this 
fiddler,  there  would  be  no  music  if  you  had  the  finest 
fiddle  in  the  world. 

"This  Self  of  yours  can  develop  any  part  of  your 
brain  you  desire  him  to.  All  you  have  to  do  is  to  will 
it  with  all  your  might,  and  he  will  do  it  with  your 
help. 

"There  is  a  separate  apartment  in  your  brain  for  each 
kind  of  knowledge.  There  is  one  for  reading,  one 
for  writing,  one  for  arithmetic,  and  one  for  music,  and 
this  one  is  divided  into  two  rooms,  one  where  you 
read  music,  and  another  where  you  execute  it. 

"There  is  an  apartment  for  each  language  that  you 
may  learn.  So  if  you  should  learn  a  dozen  different 
languages,  there  is  a  separate  shelf  in  your  brain  where 
these  are  stored  away. 

"Now,  here  is  an  amazing  fact.  You  can  destroy 
that  compartment  of  your  brain  where  is  stored  the 
power  to  read  music,  and  while  you  can  no  longer  read 
music  you  can  execute  it.    Or  you  can  have  the  music- 


The  Mind  Builder  at  Work  149 

playing  room  destroyed,  and  while  you  can  read  music 
perfectly,  you  cannot  play  a  note.  So  with  language. 
Suppose  you  learn  English,  Latin  and  Greek.  These 
are  all  stored  on  separate  shelves  of  your  language 
library.  If  you  destroy  the  English  shelf,  you  can  still 
speak  Latin  and  Greek,  but  not  a  word  of  English.  If 
you  should  have  an  injury  that  destroyed  your  Latin 
and  Greek  shelves,  but  left  your  English  shelf  intact, 
you  could  speak  English,  but  would  not  remember  one 
word  of  Latin  and  Greek. 

"What  happened  when  I  received  this  injury  to  my 
head?  It  disarranged  or  destroyed  the  place  in  which 
I  kept  names.  Now  you  don't  suppose  that  the  real 
I,  the  personality  that  first  put  the  names  in  this  par- 
ticular portion  of  my  brain  has  forgotten  my  name,  do 
you,  or  that  he  has  quit  his  job? 

"My  accident  grounded  the  wire  over  which  this 
self  sent  the  names  to  my  brain,  and  he  is  there  ready 
to  send  them  again  as  soon  as  another  house  is  built 
to  receive  them. 

"And  this  other  fellow  can  build  the  house  just  as 
easily  as  he  can  place  the  names  in  it. 

"These  separate  rooms  in  my  brain  are  so  tiny  you 
can  hardly  see  them,  but  they  can  never  be  filled.  The 
more  you  put  into  one  of  these  rooms,  the  more  it  will 
hold! 

"Now,  how  am  I  going  to  induce  this  wonder- 
worker, this  wizard,  to  rebuild  my  name-house  and  put 
the  names  back  in  it? 

"There  is  but  one  way,  and  that  is  by  desiring  it. 
If  I  desire  it  with  all  my  heart,  this  genius  will  get 
busy  and  renew  my  name  house  and  fill  it  with  names. 

"Desire  comes  from  the  animal  part  of  us.  All  ani- 
mals have  desires.  The  horse  gets  hungry  and  desires 
food.     A  man  gets  hungry  and  desires  to  know,  and 


150  Peggy    Ware: 

this  desire  is  flashed    to    man's    other    Self,    and    the 
knowledge  comes  back  over  the  same  wire. 

"I  desire  with  all  the  power  within  me  that  my 
name  house  be  rebuilt,  and  I  know  that  the  work  is 
now  going  on,  and  when  it  is  complete,  this  miracle 
worker  will  begin  to  put  names  in  it — and  one  of  these 
days,  I'll  probably  shout  my  name  aloud  for  joy. 

"Sometime  you  must  read  the  wonderful  story  of 

the  deaf  and  dumb  and  blind  girl  who  learned  to  read 

and  write.     Her  name  is — you  see,  I  can't  remember." 

"Helen    Kellar,"    suggested    Peggy,    "and    she   was 

born  within  a  hundred  miles  of  this  spot." 

"I  thank  you  for  helping  me  out,"  he  said,  and  con- 
tinued : 

"When  nineteen  months  old  she  had  an  attack  of 
cerebro-spinal  meningitis,  which  left  her  totally  blind 
and  deaf,  and  dumb,  also,  for  she  had  not  yet  learned 
to  talk.  Till  her  seventh  year  she  was  wholly  depend- 
ent upon  her  senses  of  smell,  taste,  and  touch,  for  all 
her  information. 

"At  this  period  of  her  life,  a  teacher  was  employed 
for  her,  whose  effort  was  to  teach  her  language  by 
tracing  on  the  palm  of  her  hand  the  letters  spelling 
"doll"  and  "cake."  Finally  she  could  make  them  herself 
without  knowing  what  they  meant. 

"A  month  from  the  beginning  of  her  education,  the 
awakening  came.  Her  teacher  had  her  hold  a  mug  in 
her  hand  at  a  pump,  and  as  the  water  filled  the  mug 
and  ran  on  her  hand  the  teacher  traced  the  letters 
'w-a-t-e-r'  on  the  palm  of  her  free  hand.  She  dropped 
the  mug,  and  a  new  light  came  into  her  face.  She 
spelled  water  several  times.  This  blind,  deaf,  and 
dumb  girl  suddenly  understood  that  the  symbol  traced 
on  her  palm  meant  'water.'    She  had  learned  a  word. 


The;  Mind  Builder  at  Work  151 

"  From  that  instant  her  personality  was  set  free, 
like  a  prisoner  liberated  from  a  dark  dungeon. 

"The  next  morning  she  arose  like  a  radiant  fairy. 
She  flitted  from  object  to  object,  asking  the  name  of 
everything,  kissing  her  teacher  for  the  first  time  in 
her  gladness. 

"How  she  learned  to  talk  and  has  become  one  of  the 
most  accomplished  women  of  our  time  is  known  to  all 
the  world.  Some  day  we  will  read  the  story  of  her 
life  together. 

"It  was  her  great,  longing  desire  that  reached  her 
Soul,  and  the  Soul  that  already  knows,  communicated 
its  knowledge  to  her. 

"We  want  to  begin  our  education  by  doing  just  what 
this  girl  did.  Send  out  strong  desires  for  knowledge 
to  our  Souls,  and  they  will  tell  us  all  things  that  we 
want  to  know." 

He  had  finished,  and  was  about  to  resume  his  seat. 

"Mr.  Mind  Builder,  where  does  my  soul  get  its 
knowledge?"  asked  Peggy,  her  cheeks  aflame  and  her 
eyes  glowing  with  a  desire  to  know  more  of  this  magic 
self  which  the  speaker  had  boldly  called  the  Soul. 

"You  want  to  get  me  into  deep  water  where  I  might 
drown,"  he  said,  laughingly.  "Perhaps,  some  day, 
you  and  I  may  solve  that  problem  working  together." 


Chapter  Twelve 
SEEKING  REST  AND  FINDING  NONE 

SEVERAL  weeks  had  elapsed  since  the  "Mind 
Builder's"  first  lecture,  but  it  still  lingered  with 
Peggy.  He  had  given  her  a  rational,  tangible 
proof  of  what  she  had  already  felt  in  her  soul,  as  well 
as  laying  down  a  scientific  basis  for  proper  mental 
development. 

Already  the  result  of  his  teaching  could  be  seen. 
Her  pupils  displayed  a  new  enthusiasm,  for  they  had  a 
definite  understanding  of  what  they  were  doing,  and 
their  advance  in  knowledge  was  nothing  short  of  phe- 
nomenal. Their  development  of  character  was  equally 
striking,  for  the  same*methods  used  for  brain  building 
will  also  build  character. 

Peggy  had  taken  the  position  that  these  methods 
would  apply  to  body  building  as  well,  and  under  her 
guidance  the  faces  of  the  pupils  were  undergoing  a 
gradual  change,  quite  in  keeping  with  their  growth  of 
character. 

Noting  this  change,  Cliff  Anderson  remarked  to 
Peggy  one  day :  "I  declare,  Miss  Peggy,  yore  scholars 
are  gittin'  better  lookin'  every  day.  I  believe  the  gals 
will  be  as  purty  as  you  by  an'  by,  an'  the  boys  as 
hansum  as  the  'Mind  Builder.'  Even  these  old  folks 
don't  look  as  mean  as  they  did. 

Peggy  felt  more  and  more  the  importance  of  com- 
muning with  that  invisible  source  of  her  strength,  and 
at  her  suggestion,  Anderson  had  built  a  house  for  her 

152 


Seeking  Rest  and  Finding  None  153 

out  of  hickory  logs  with  the  bark  on,  and  at  one  end  a 
chimney  of  rough  cobblestones  with  an  open  fireplace, 
and  Simon  had  provided  wood  to  be  used  when  the 
weather  was  cold.  In  this  room  there  was  an  easy 
chair,  a  couch  which  Anderson  had  purchased  some- 
where without  Peggy's  knowledge,  a  small  table,  on 
which  sat  a  vase  for  flowers,  which  Simon  filled  every 
morning.  Beside  the  vase  rested  her  mother's  Bible, 
the  only  book  in  the  room.  Over  the  doorway  there 
was  written  "Shrine  of  Silence,"  and  no  one  ever 
crossed  its  threshold  without  Peggy's  permission. 

It  was  built  in  a  secluded  nook,  and  from  one  win- 
dow Peggy  could  see  a  waterfall  made  by  Sauty  Creek, 
while  from  another  she  got  a  marvelous  view  of  the 
winding  Tennesse  River,  with  its  valley  as  fertile  as 
that  of  the  Nile. 

When  it  was  complete,  and  Peggy  had  taken  posses- 
sion, Cliff  Anderson  came  to  the  door  one  day  and 
said :  "  'Scuse  me,  Miss  Peggy,  fer  comin'  up  here, 
but  I  got  to  talk  to  you.  I  jest  can't  hold  in  no 
longer." 

She  invited  him  in,  but  he  said:  "No,  I  ain't  fit  to 
come  in,  'cause  I  know  this  is  whare  you  talk  to  God, 
an'  I  ain't  fitten  to  stand  any  place  whare  he  has  ever 
been.  I'll  jest  stan'  here  on  the  outside,  an'  you  set 
there  whare  I  kin  see  you." 

"I  guess  you  wus  the  beginnin'  of  all  my  trouble, 
Miss  Peggy,  fer  my  conscience  had  never  pestered  me 
much  'til  you  come  to  Bucks  Pocket.  Sence  you  come, 
somethin's  got  holt  of  me,  an'  I  have  fit  it  an'  fit  it,  an' 
it  ain't  no  use.     It's  about  to  lick  me." 

"What  is  the  trouble,  Mr.  Anderson?"  asked  Peggy, 
sympathetically. 

"It's  purty  hard  to  say  it,"  replied  Anderson,  "but 


154  Peggy    Ware 

I  recon  the  easiest  way  is  to  spit  it  right  out.  I  am 
the  biggest  liar  in  the  State  I" 

"Oh,  Mr.  Anderson,  you  don't  mean  it!  I  think  you 
are  the  soul  of  truth  and  honor,"  exclaimed  Peggy. 

"That's  whare  I  got  you  fooled.  I  got  Molly  fooled, 
too.  She  don't  know  it,  en  if  she  did  I  guess  she'd 
quit  me  afore  night  an'  git  a  divorce,  an'  I  would  be 
ruint  without  Molly,"  and  the  big  man  swallowed  hard. 

"I  don't  understand,  Mr.  Anderson;  you'll  have  to 
explain." 

"They  ain't  much  explainin'  to  do.  I  told  jest  one 
big  lie  in  my  life  to  Molly,  an'  it  wus  that  big  an' 
black  that  I  feel  like  a  wurser  liar  than  old  man  Ana- 
nias the  preachers  talk  about. 

"I  didn't  useter  think  much  about  it  'til  you  all 
come,  an'  then  somethin'  waked  up  in  me,  an'  it's 
eatin'  an'  gnawin'  day  an'  night,  an'  ef  it  do'nt  stop, 
it's  gwine  to  eat  my  heart  out." 

"Won't  you  tell  me  what  it  is?  You  know  you  can 
trust  me,"  pleaded  Peggy. 

"Yes,  I  know  I  kin  trust  you,  but  I  am  afeard  of 
Molly  an'  Ruth,  an'  you  an'  God  an'  everybody.  You'll 
hate  me,  so'll  Molly  an'  Ruth  an'  the  whole  world  will, 
jest  as  I  know  God  does." 

"Oh,  Mr.  Anderson,  God  doesn't  hate  you ;  He  loves 
you,  no  matter  what  you  have  done,  and  I  see  in  you 
such  a  noble  soul  that  no  matter  what  your  past  may 
have  been,  I'd  trust  you  with  my  life,  and  I  am  sure 
that  Mrs.  Anderson  and  Ruth  will  love  you  just  the 
same  after  you  tell  them." 

"That's  whare  you  don't  know  Molly  Anderson," 
he  said.    "She'd  never,  never  fergive  me." 

"What  I  come  to  ax  you  is  how  to  git  away  frum 
this  thing  that's  eatin'  me  up.  I  thought  when  I  quit 
makin'  wildcat  licker,  deeded  yore  school  all  this  land 


Seeking  Rest  and  Finding  None  155 

and  went  to  work  as  yore  boss  whare  I  could  be  nigh 
you  an'  hear  you  talk,  I  could  git  over  it,  but  it  gits 
woser  an'  woser." 

"Mr.  Anderson,  there  is  but  one  course  to  pursue, 
and  that  is  to  make  a  clean  confession  of  this  wrong — 
lie  as  you  call  it — to  the  persons  you  have  wronged," 
and  Peggy  looked  at  the  suffering  man  earnestly. 

He  stood  there,  silent  for  a  long  time,  his  gaze 
fixed  on  Peggy's  face,  as  though  he  were  looking  at 
her  for  the  last  time.  Then  turning  slowly  away,  he 
said :  "Thank  you,  Miss  Peggy,  but  I'd  ruther  die 
than  tell  it." 

When  Peggy  returned  home,  her  father  was  not 
there.  The  children  told  her  that  he  said  he  did  not 
want  supper,  and  that  they  were  not  to  wait  for  him. 
Peggy's  anxiety  about  her  father  had  grown  more 
acute  of  late.  But  for  her  unswerving  faith,  she  could 
not  have  sustained  this  burden.  When  she  most  needed 
her  father,  he  had  utterly  failed  her.  He  was  both  a 
mill-stone  about  her  neck  and  a  mountain  on  her  heart. 

Day  by  day  she  had  watched  him  as  his  face  grew 
more  pallid,  his  eyes  more  hopeless,  and  his  once  splen- 
did physique  but  a  pitiful  reminder  of  what  had  been. 
She  had  talked  to  him,  reasoned  with  him,  prayed  for 
him,  wept  for  him  in  secret,  and  then  met  him  with 
smiling  countenance. 

She  knew  there  was  but  one  remedy  for  the  storm- 
tossed  spirit  of  her  father,  seeking  rest  and  finding 
none.  Nor  did  she  doubt  that  he  would  find  the  haven 
of  rest,  even  if  in  death ;  but  her  soul  longed  to  see  him 
live,  a  new  man,  big,  strong,  forceful,  helpful,  his  life 
a  benediction  to  his  children  and  the  world.  Ralph  and 
Virginia  needed  him.  She  needed  him,  the  world 
needed  him,  and  most  of  all,  he  needed  himself,  that 
wonderful  Self  that  was  striving  hard  to  reach  him. 


156  Peggy     Ware 

She  remembered  that  she  had  somewhere  read  these 
lines: 

"Oh,  better  self,  art  thou  like  me  astray? 
Seeking  with  all  thy  heart  to  find  thy  way  to  mine?" 

And  these  words  were  echoing-  in  her  heart  as  she 
strolled  down  to  Simon's  cabin  to  inquire  if  he  had 
seen  her  father. 

The  door  was  ajar,  and  hearing  voices  within,  she 
hesitated  about  interrupting  them. 

The  first  sentence  she  heard  gave  her  such  a  start 
that  she  was  rooted  to  the  spot,  and  without  any 
thought  of  eaves-dropping,  she  lingered,  listening  to 
the  conversation. 

"Simon,"  said  her  father,  "I  have  about  made  up  my 
mind  to  put  an  end  to  my  miserable  existence,  and  I 
thought  I'd  tell  you,  because  there  is  no  other  person 
I  dare  talk  to  about  it." 

"Pore  chile,  pore  chile,"  the  old  darky  crooned,  "how 
sorry  I  is  fer  ye.  Plow  I  wish  I  could  take  all  yore 
load  on  my  shoulders,  case  Pd  know  right  whare  to  go 
to  git  rid  of  it." 

"I  know  what  you  are  going  to  say,  Simon,  but  it's 
no  use.  I  have  gone  all  over  that  ground  a  thousand 
times,  and  I  come  back  to  the  same  conclusion. 

"Of  course,  you  can  talk  about  God  and  His  good- 
ness, but  he  has  never  afflicted  you  as  he  has  me.  He 
first  permitted  my  child  to  be  stolen,  and  then  He  took 
my  wife.     And  if  there  is  a  God,  He  is  cruel." 

"Massa  Ware,  I  been  wantin'  to  say  somethin'  to 
you  fer  a  long  time,  but  I  ain't  nevah  said  it.  I  knowse 
dat  I  ain't  nuthin'  but  an  ignant  old  nigger,  an'  I  alius 
tries  to  keep  my  place,  an'  not  be  disrespec'ful,  but 
dis  time  Pm  gwine  to  do  some  plain  talkin',  no  mattah 
what  happens. 

"In  de  fus  place,  de  Lawd  had  nothin'  to  do  with 


Seeking  Rest  and  Finding  None  157 

takin'  yore  wife  or  baby.  How  any  edycated  white 
man  kin  accuse  God  of  it  gits  by  me.  I  knowed  bettah 
dan  dat  all  my  life. 

"In  de  secon'  place,  you  ain't  had  no  trouble.  You 
don't  know  what  real  trouble  is.  Let  me  tell  you 
what  I  calls  trouble. 

"When  I  wus  a  little  boy  over  in  Africa,  de  wicked 
slaver  come  along  and  stole  me  an'  las'  I  evah  see  of 
my  pa  and  ma  they  wus  reachin'  out  dey  hans  tow'd 
me,  screamin'  an'  cryin'. 

"He  brought  me  ovah  to  dis  great  Ian'  an'  sole  me 
to  a  man  what  use  to  git  drunk  an'  beat  me  'til  de 
blood  drip  off  my  heels.  Bimeby  I  fell  in  luv  wid  de 
fines'  black  gal  in  de  country  an'  we  got  married,  an' 
had  two  of  de  grandes'  little  pickaninnies  you  evah 
saw.  One  day  my  Alassa  sole  my  wife  an'  chilluns, 
an'  dey  wus  carried  way  down  to  de  cane  fields  of 
Louisiana,  an'  I  ain't  nevah  seen  or  heerd  ob  'em  sense. 
An'  de  las'  I  see  ob  'em,  dey  wus  holdin'  out  dey  hans 
fer  me,  cryin'  an'  callin'  me. 

"Den  I  carried  my  captain  off  de  battlefield,  an'  he 
died  in  my  ahms.  He  was  like  a  fathah  to  me  an'  it 
most  broke  my  heart.  I  had  to  go  tell  my  Missus 
about  it,  an'  when  she  sobbed  and  cried,  an'  say,  'Oh, 
Simon,  I  dis  can't  stan'  it,'  I  felt  lak  I  would  die.  An' 
den,  when  I  stood  by  her  chile  an'  see  her  dead,  never 
to  speak  again,  an'  you  suffrin'  so,  an'  de  chilluns 
weepin',  I  say:  'Shorely  old  Simon  has  suffered 
enough.' 

"An'  den,  when  we  put  her  in  de  frozen  groun'  an' 
leabe  her  way  up  dar  in  de  Cumberland  mountains  all 
by  herself,  I  say,  'Bless  God,  her  soul  not  in  de  grabe.' 

"An'  den  we  cum  heah,  an'  I  see  you  sufferin'  frum 
day  to  day,  and  dat  deah  chile  of  yorn  doin'  more  dan 
any  girl  in  de  worl',  needin'  you  so  bad,  an'  my  ole 


158  Peggy    Ware 

heart  des  a-breakin'  case  I  can't  help  her,  I  say  'Bless 
God,  fer  Miss  Peggy;  she's  wuth  all  dis  pore  ole  nigger 
evah  suffered.' 

"An'  den  I  feel  like  shoutin'  Glory  to  de  Lawd,  fer 
He  has  been  so  good  to  me,  nevah  hidin'  His  face  frum 
me  in  de  darkes'  hours." 

There  was  a  long  silence,  during  which  Simon 
seemed  to  be  weighing  his  words.  And  then  he  went 
on :  "In  de  las'  place,  you  is  selfish.  Yes,  you  don't 
see  nuthin'  but  yoreself,  an'  he  gits  in  yore  way  so  you 
can't  see  yore  Peggy  sufferin'  an'  yore  little  Ralph  an' 
Virginny  reachin'  out  dey  tiny  han's  fer  help,  an'  you 
can't  see  God.  You  think  He  is  hidin'  His  face  frum 
you,  an'  all  de  time  it's  yore  own  shader  dat  hides  His 
face. 

"He  nevah  hide  His  face  frum  any  pore  soul  in  dis 
worl'  an'  He  nevah  will.  He  alius  dare  wid  His  face 
shinin',  en  when  you  step  frum  behin'  yore  shader, 
you  kin  see  Him,  an'  when  you  do,  you'll  say:  'What 
a  pore  blin'  fool  I  been.'  " 

By  the  time  Simon  finished,  Peggy  heard  her  father 
sobbing,  and  she  wanted  to  fly  to  him  and  put  her 
arms  around  him,  but  on  second  thought  she  decided 
not  to  do  so. 

No  other  preacher,  and  no  other  sermon  could  have 
melted  his  heart.  These  were  the  first  tears  he  had 
shed  since  her  mother's  death,  and  Peggy  knew  that 
the  opening  of  the  flood  gates  to  his  tears  meant  rest 
for  his  spirit.  How  long  the  way,  how  many  dark  val- 
leys he  must  yet  traverse,  she  did  not  know,  but  her 
soul  told  her  that  his  face  would  be  from  this  time  on 
turned  toward  the  light. 

Noiselessly  she  slipped  away,  leaving  her  father  still 
shaken  by  his  emotion,  while  old  Simon  reverently  ex- 
claimed :    "Thank  God  !    Thank  God  !" 


Seeking  Rest  and  Finding  None  159 

"He  saved  others,  himself  he  cannot  save."  These 
mocking  words  of  the  Jews  as  Jesus  hung  on  the  cross, 
kept  ringing  in  Peggy's  ears  as  she  gazed  into  the 
starry  night.  Her  every  thought  had  been  given  to 
others,  without  a  care  for  herself.  She  slept  on  straw 
that  others  might  rest  on  downy  beds,  and  there  was 
never  a  thought  of  self-sacrifice.  She  was  the  com- 
forter and  consoler  of  every  one  in  distress  in  Bucks 
Pocket.  Her  shrine  of  Silence  was  becoming  the 
Mecca  for  storm-tossed  brains  or  aching  hearts. 

Was  there  a  vicious  tempered,  unruly  boy  in  school? 

A  few  minutes  in  Peggy's  shrine,  and  he  came  out 
subdued,  the  tears  of  penitence  still  trembling  on  his 
cheeks. 

Was  some  rough  mountaineer,  smarting  under  some 
insult,  intent  on  revenge? 

A  visit  to  the  Silence  room,  and  the  anger  and  malice 
were  all  gone. 

Did  some  poor,  hard-working  mother  bend  under  her 
load?  A  few  words,  and  a  handclasp  from  Peggy,  and 
she  went  away  with  a  song  in  her  heart. 

Her  vision  took  in  all  ignorant,  distressed  souls,  and 
she  often  felt  that  she  would  gladly  give  her  life  if  by 
so  doing  she  could  pour  balm  into  every  bleeding  heart, 
and  banish  sin  and  disease  from  the  world. 

But  tonight  she  could  not  save  herself.  Her  bark 
was  storm-tossed,  and  there  was  no  beacon  light  to  be 
seen.  Reacting  from  the  burdens  and  sorrows  of 
others,  she  was  overwhelmed  by  the  cry  of  her  human 
heart. 

For  a  time  the  curtain  was  drawn  between  her  and 
her  vision.  Her  work  faded,  and  there  was  nothing 
left  on  all  her  horizon  save  the  figure  of  a  man,  hand- 
some, brilliant,  magnetic,  to  whom  she  felt  drawn  by 
an  irresistible  force  that  she  had  tried  with  all  her 


160  Peggy     Ware 

might  to  break.  But  tonight  she  felt  helpless,  and  a 
sense  of  being  swept  out  on  the  ocean  by  the  pitiless 
tide,  overwhelmed  her. 

Ruth  loved  the  man  with  all  her  intense,  passionate 
nature,  and  it  was  evident  to  Peggy  that  the  man  was 
being  swept  off  his  feet  by  her  beauty. 

Why  must'  she  at  the  threshold  of  her  life's  work 
feel  this  cruel  thorn  piercing  her  heart? 

She  cried  out  for  someone  to  remove  it,  and  heal  the 
wound  that  it  had  made. 

She  tossed  on  her  bed,  the  fever  burned  her  brow, 
her  spirit,  like  her  body,  was  storm  shaken.  Unable  to 
sleep,  she  arose,  lit  her  lamp,  and  picking  up  her  Bible, 
it  opened  at  those  words  of  Paul  that  have  caused  so 
much  speculation  : 

"And  lest  I  should  be  exalted  above  measure  through 
the  abundance  of  the  revelations,  there  was  given  to 
me  a  thorn  in  the  flesh,  the  messenger  of  Satan  to 
afflict  me,  lest  I  should  be  exalted  above  measure. 

"For  this  thing  I  besought  the  Lord  thrice,  that  it 
might  depart  from  me. 

"And  he  said  unto  me,  My  grace  is  sufficient  for 
thee ;  for  my  strength  is  made  perfect  in  weakness." 

Now  she  knew  that  this  thorn  would  never  be 
plucked  from  her  heart,  but  ever  and  always  it  was  to 
be  a  reminder  of  her  weakness,  and  God's  strength. 
And  the  pain  would  sweeten  her  life,  and  the  suffering 
make  her  one  with  all  humanity. 


Chapter  Thirteen 
THE  AWAKENING 

THE  hour  had  struck  for  Wilbur  Ware — the  hour 
of  death  or  victory.  There  comes  to  every  soul, 
sometime,  somewhere,  that  supreme  moment 
when  the  material  man  and  super-natural  man  grapple 
for  the  final  struggle.  Saint  Paul  called  the  two  con- 
tending forces  the  natural  man  and  the  spiritual  man. 

It  is  the  darkest  and  most  hopeless  hour  of  a  man's 
life.  No  other  tragedy,  not  even  death,  is  comparable 
to  it.  The  sun  is  blotted  out,  the  stars  no  longer 
twinkle  in  the  blue,  man's  reason  staggers  like  a 
wounded  Cyclops,  and  the  contest  between  these  giant 
wrestlers  takes  place  where  no  mortal  eye  can  see  and 
no  friendly  hand  can  help. 

In  his  extremity,  Paul  was  totally  blind,  and  for 
three  days  and  nights  without  food  or  drink.  When 
his  soul  had  triumphed,  the  scales  fell  from  his  eyes 
and  he  was  filled  with  the  Holy  Ghost. 

Elijah  fled  to  a  cave,  and  there  in  darkness  fought 
his  battle,  and  when  the  spiritual  man  triumphed,  he 
heard  the  still,  small  voice. 

Even  Jesus  was  not  exempt  from  this  supreme  strug- 
gle. We  are  told  that  His  disciples  slept  as  He  wres- 
tled with  the  man  of  flesh.  As  he  prayed  in  Geth- 
semane  His  sweat,  like  great  drops  of  blood,  fell  down 
to  the  ground.  In  His  agony,  He  said:  "My  soul  is 
exceeding  sorrowful  even  unto  death."  And  then  He 
cried  out :    "O,  my  Father,  if  it  be  possible,  let  this  cup 

161 


162  Peggy     Ware 

pass  from  me,  nevertheless,  not  as  I  will,  but  as  Thou 
wilt."  When  He  thus  made  the  surrender  of  self,  an 
angel  appeared  strengthening  Him. 

Wilbur  Ware  went  out  of  Simon's  cabin,  groping  in 
the  dark.  For  him  the  light  had  failed.  His  reason 
had  played  him  false,  and  now  mocked  him  as  he  stum- 
bled through  the  darkness.  Beyond  the  outposts  of 
reason  there  lay  an  uncharted  desert,  which  he  knew 
he  must  cross,  if  he  ever  should  find  peace.  The 
material  man  said:  "It  is  impossible!  It  is  nothing 
but  a  mirage,  and  what  you  imagine  as  a  Paradise  be- 
yond is  empty  nothingness.  Turn  back  from  this 
hallucination,  and  let  me  guide  you  to  the  life  worth 
while." 

He  dared  not  turn  back,  for  that  way  lay  the  hell 
of  self,  of  which  old  Simon  had  told  him.  He  had 
clung  on  to  this  self,  not  realizing  that  the  devil  he 
had  preached  about  during  the  days  of  his  ministry, 
was  none  other  than  the  man  of  flesh  that  wages  con- 
stant battle  against  the  soul.  He  now  understood  the 
reality  of  this  devil,  and  the  certainty  of  the  hell  in 
which  he  had  been  tormented  for  months. 

He  fell  on  his  face,  and  for  the  first  time  in  his  life 
really  prayed.  Heretofore  his  prayers  had  been  words, 
words,  in  which  he  told  God  what  he  wanted.  Now, 
like  Christ,  he  said,  "not  my  will,  but  thine  be  done." 
He  nailed  self  to  the  cross,  and  as  he  did  so,  the  devil 
was  vanquished,  and  the  fires  of  hell  extinguished. 
Across  the  trackless  desert  there  lay  a  friendly  road, 
marked  by  the  footprints  of  all  great  souls  who  had 
trod  the  same  way.  Faith  burned  a  glorious  beacon 
light,  driving  away  the  shadows  of  faulty  reason.  His 
soul  had  triumphed,  and  like  Jacob  at  Peniel,  he  could 


The  Awakening  163 

say,  "I  have  seen  God  face  to  face,  therefore  I  do  not 
believe  in  Him,  I  know  Him." 

Wilbur  Ware  was  born  again,  born  of  the  spirit, 
conscious  of  his  soul,  and  of  his  oneness  with  God,  his 
Father. 

Jesus  said:  "Marvel  not  that  I  said  unto  thee,  ye 
must  be  born  again."  This  new  birth  is  just  as  essen- 
tial today  as  when  Jesus  uttered  these  words.  It  opens 
the  portals  to  salvation,  and  there  is  no  other  road. 
The  Master  said:  "He  that  entereth  not  by  the  door 
into  the  sheepfold,  but  climbeth  up  some  other  way, 
the  same  is  a  thief  and  a  robber." 

The  sun's  first  rays  kissed  the  tallest  peaks,  as  Wil- 
bur Ware  set  his  face  homeward,  a  new  light  in  his 
eyes,  a  new  song  in  his  soul,  and  a  great  love  for  all 
the  world. 

At  the  threshold  of  his  home,  Peggy  embraced  and 
kissed  him  rapturously,  while  Ralph  and  Virginia  fairly 
danced  for  joy.  They  did  not  understand  the  miracle, 
but  felt  its  presence. 

Simon,  unashamed  of  his  tears  of  joy,  exclaimed: 
"Lawd,  I'se  seen  dy  Salvation,  an'  Fse  ready  to  go 
des  any  time  you  calls  me !" 

Wilbur  Ware  was  indeed  and  in  truth  a  new  man 
He  told  Peggy  he  was  going  with  her  to  her  school. 
He  had  never  been  there.  In  fact,  he  had  shunned 
publicity  and  avoided  meeting  people.  Those  who 
happened  to  meet  him  were  not  drawn  to  him.  They 
did  not  like  him.  Just  why,  they  could  not  have  told 
you. 

When  he  entered  the  school  room  there  was  a  mild 
sensation.  Cliff  Anderson,  who  still  attended  Peggy's 
class  for  illiterates,  sat  in  open-mouthed  astonishment. 

The  usual  opening  service  concluded,  Peggy  said: 
"My  father  is  going  to  talk  to  you  this  morning,  and  I 


164  Peggy    Ware; 

am  so  glad.  You  don't  know  how  happy  it  makes  me 
to  have  him  with  us."  Her  radiant  face  gave  em- 
phasis to  her  words. 

Wilbur  Ware's  words  electrified  his  hearers.  Peggy's 
soul  was  thrilled.  This  was  the  supreme  moment  for 
which  she  had  waited  and  prayed  so  long.  Her  father 
was  now  a  giant,  ready  to  help  her  carry  forward  her 
work.  All  felt  a  tremendous  force  emanating  from  this 
newly  awakened  man. 

At  the  conclusion  of  his  address,  the  older  people 
gathered  around  to  grasp  his  hand. 

As  Cliff  Anderson  did  so,  he  said :  "Ware,  ef  I  wus 
a  Christian,  I'd  say  thank  the  Lord,  but  as  I  ain't 
nuthin'  but  a  has-been  old  Wild  Catter,  I'll  say  thank 
Miss  Peggy." 

Holding  the  big,  rough  hand  of  Anderson  firmly  in 
his,  looking  steadily  intp  his  fearless  gray  eyes,  Wilbur 
Ware  said:  "Mr.  Anderson,  you  are  a  Christian,  and 
don't  know  it." 

Anderson,  deeply  touched,  tried  to  hide  his  emotion. 
"It'll  be  a  long  road  fer  me,  parson,"  he  said,  "fer  I've 
been  gwine  the  wrong  way  mos'  all  my  life." 

"I  have  never  seen  a  more  unselfish  man,  Mr.  An- 
derson, and  the  surrender  of  self  is  the  crucial  test 
after  all." 

"That's  whare  you're  badly  fooled,"  exclaimed  the 
old  man,  shaking  his  head  slowly,  "I  ain't  never  made 
no  self  surrender,  as  you  call  it.  I'm  still  a  rebel,  an' 
afore  Cliff  Anderson  surrenders  somethin'  mo'  pow'ful 
got  to  hit  him  than  ever  struck  him  yet." 

Wilbur  Ware  was  awake  for  the  first  time  in  his 
life.  He  had  found  that  Something,  that  made  him  a 
human  dynamo. 

When  we  really  crucify  self,  and  allow  the  soul  to 


Ths  Awakening  165 

guide  us,  we  come  into  touch  with  the  source  of  all 
power  and  of  all  wisdom.  The  super-race  will  arrive 
when  all  men  come  to  know  and  live  this  truth.  It  has 
been  beclouded  and  befogged  by  man-made  theology, 
and  God  has  been  placed  upon  a  throne  afar  off,  until 
many  thinking  men  and  women  have  been  driven  away 
from  the  churches,  seeking  for  the  truth  elsewhere. 

Henceforth  Wilbur  Ware  was  ready  to  preach  the 
truth,  calling  men  and  women  back  to  the  church,  and 
his  soul  was  filled  with  a  joy  and  peace  that  he  had 
never  dreamed  was  possible. 

Throwing  himself  into  the  work,  his  bodily  strength 
returned,  and  he  never  tired.  His  enthusiasm  was  con- 
tagious, and  all  of  Bucks  Pocket  responded  as  it  had 
already  done  to  Peggy's  vision. 

Plans  were  drawn  for  substantial  school  buildings, 
dormitories,  and  workshops,  and  a  community  church. 
The  three-room  log  school  house  was  to  forever  stand 
and  be  incorporated  into  the  larger  plans.  The  build- 
ings were  to  be  constructed  in  units,  so  they  could  be 
added  to  as  the  work  grew. 

When  the  first  unit  of  the  school  building  was  com- 
plete, it  was  dedicated  by  appropriate  ceremonies.  A 
large  flag  was  unfurled  above  it,  there  to  float  in  the 
breeze,  an  earnest  that  the  Peggy  Ware  school  stood 
for  Americanism. 

When  this  work  was  complete,  Wilbur  Ware  planned 
to  make  of  the  church  a  community  center  for  all  gath- 
erings and  entertainments  as  might  be  for  the  welfare 
of  the  community. 

A  church  was  organized,  without  creed,  dogma,  or 
theology.  "Love  the  Lord  thy  God  with  all  thy  heart, 
and  thy  neighbor  as  thyself"  was  written  in  large  let- 
ters on  the  walls. 


166  Peggy     Wars 

At  the  suggestion  of  the  "Mind  Builder,"  a  chime  of 
bells  had  been  installed,  and  he  undertook  the  ringing 
of  the  chimes  on  Sunday  mornings. 

On  the  first  Sunday  after  their  installation,  he  went 
to  the  church  to  ring  the  chimes.  It  was  an  hour 
before  the  time  for  services,  and  Ruth  had  accompanied 
him,  for  they  had  become  almost  inseparable.  The 
music  of  the  bells  began,  and  Peggy,  who  always  came 
early,  slipped  into  a  seat  and  listened.  How  wonder- 
ful it  seemed  to  the  dwellers  in  Bucks  Pocket.  No- 
where in  the  world  perhaps  is  there  a  more  remarkable 
echo  than  in  this  little  Pocket  in  the  side  of  the  moun- 
tain. As  each  note  pealed  forth,  it  traveled  until  it 
struck  one  of  the  walls  of  the  Pocket,  and  then  it  was 
hurled  back  on  the  opposite  side,  and  anon  it  traveled 
out,  out  across  the  Tennessee,  dying  away,  to  be  fol- 
lowed closely  by  another. 

"Rock  of  Ages,  cleft  for  me,"  pealed  forth  the  chimes, 
and  the  inhabitants  lifted  their  eyes  to  the  giant  cliffs 
rising  high  above  them. 

And  now  another  tune  came  from  the  deep  throated 
bells.  It  was  that  cry  of  the  soul,  "Nearer,  my  God, 
to  thee,  nearer  to  thee."  Every  note  was  a  prayer, 
every  echo  a  call  to  God. 

As  the  tones  mounted  higher  and  ever  higher,  the 
ringer  had  a  vision  of  the  snow-capped  Alps,  and 
nestling  at  its  foot  a  Swiss  village.  He  saw  himself  a 
barefoot  boy,  standing  beside  the  old  Swiss  bell  ringer, 
taking  his  first  lesson.  As  the  golden  tones  of  the  bells 
seemed  to  speak  the  words:  "Even  though  it  be  a 
cross  that  raiseth  me,"  his  body  swayed,  he  clasped  his 
forehead  with  both  hands,  a  wondrous  light  beamed 
from  his  countenance,  as  he  shouted :  "My  name  !  My 
name  is — is  Doctor  John  Weston !  My  soul  has  tri- 
umphed, and  my  theory  is  proven  to  the  world !" 


The:  Awakening  167 

Ruth  was  overwhelmed  with  joy.  His  enthusiasm 
had  caught  her  in  its  sweep,  and  with  her  hands  on  his 
shoulders,  her  soul  in  her  eyes,  she  hung  on  his  words. 

Seizing  her  in  his  arms,  he  drew  her  to  him,  and 
their  lips  met  for  the  first  time.  Thus  they  stood,  the 
man  lifted  out  of  himself  by  the  great  miracle  of  his 
triumphant  genius,  while  the  woman  was  equally 
transported  by  the  miracle  of  love. 

Peggy  clutched  her  breast  with  both  hands.  The 
wicked  thorn  was  tearing  at  her  heart,  and  at  every 
beat  the  blood  was  trickling  from  the  cruel  wound. 
She  staggered  to  her  feet,  and  reeled  blindly  as  she 
groped  her  way  from  the  church. 

Not  far  away  was  her  shrine  of  silence.  Could  she 
reach  it  before  she  fell?  By  a  tremendous  effort  of  the 
will,  she  did,  and  as  the  door  closed  behind  her,  she 
fell  upon  her  knees,  her  face  buried  in  her  mother's 
open  Bible,  sobbing  uncontrolledly. 

Slowly  the  storm  of  grief  subsided ;  she  raised  her 
tear-dimmed  eyes,  and  they  rested  on  a  cluster  of  white 
roses  that  Simon  had  placed  on  the  table.  They  were 
still  damp  with  the  morning  dew,  and  as  Peggy  inhaled 
their  fragrance,  a  sweet  peace  stole  into  her  heart, 
albeit  the  pain  was  still  there. 

She  was  late  for  church,  and  John  Weston  was 
sorely  disappointed,  for  it  was  to  Peggy  that  his 
thoughts  turned  when  he  became  conscious  of  his 
name.  To  her  he  wanted  to  tell  the  wonderful  news. 
Every  one  was  wondering  about  her  tardiness.  She 
was  always  in  her  place,  and  no  service  would  have 
been  complete  without  Peggy. 

At  last  she  came,  and  the  "Mind  Builder,"  now  Dr. 
John  Weston,  had  never  seen  her  so  radiantly  beauti- 
ful. Her  face  was  unusually  pale,  but  this  accentuated 
the  brilliancy  of  her  glorious  eyes. 


168  Peggy     Ware 

When  she  sang  a  solo,  as  was  her  custom,  his  soul 
was  once  more  in  the  noble  Alps,  and  Peggy  was  by 
his  side. 

At  the  close  of  the  service,  he  rushed  to  her,  telling 
her  the  glad  news.  "I  am  no  longer  the  'Mind 
Builder',"  he  declared  joyously,  "but  Doctor  John  Wes- 
ton, at  your  pleasure.  And  you  are  Miss  Peggy  Ware," 
he  said,  extending  his  hand  in  friendly  greeting. 

As  Peggy  placed  her  cold  fingers  in  his  warm,  palpi- 
tating palm,  she  said  faintly :  "I  am  so  glad."  Before 
he  could  reply  she  was  gone. 

In  alarm  he  followed  her  out  of  the  church,  Ruth 
keeping  pace  with  him.  "Are  you  ill,  Miss  Ware?"  he 
inquired  anxiously,  when  he  had  overtaken  her. 

"No,  I  think  not,  Mr.  Mind  Builder — I  should  say, 
Doctor  Weston.  It  must  be  the  proof  of  your  won- 
derful theory  that  has  overwhelmed  me.  For  a  mo- 
ment I  was  lost  in  the  most  wonderful  speculations, 
but  I  am  gradually  getting  my  feet  back  to  earth." 
She  laughed  her  old  musical  laugh,  and  Weston's  anxi- 
ety was  soon  forgotten  in  the  exhilaration  of  his  new- 
found joy. 

"Tell  me,"  said  Peggy,  "all  about  yourself.  Who 
are  you?  Where  did  you  come  from?  And  in  the  lan- 
guage of  Cliff  Anderson,  'Where  are  you  gwine'?" 

"There  you  go !  Always  wanting  to  know  the  why 
of  everything.  I  am  sure  I  can  never  fully  satisfy  that 
inquiring,  analytical  mind  of  yours." 

"Anyway,  you  can  tell  us  all  about  yourself,  and 
that  will  satisfy  us  for  the  present,  won't  it  Ruth?" 

Thus  appealed  to,  Ruth  turned  her  dark  eyes  toward 
Doctor  Weston,  and  the  telltale  blushes  in  her  cheeks 
left  no  doubt  in  the  mind  of  Peggy  that  Doctor  Weston 
was  the  most  interesting  subject  in  all  the  universe  to 
Ruth. 


The;  Awakening  169 

"To  begin  at  the  beginning-,"  he  said,  "I  was  born  in 
Switzerland.  My  parents  died  when  I  was  quite  young, 
and  I  was  reared  by  a  grand  old  physician,  who  was 
also  my  guardian.  My  father  left  me  considerable 
money,  so  my  education  was  not  neglected. 

"I  chose  medicine  as  my  profession,  and  had  the 
advantage  of  the  best  medical  schools  in  Europe.  My 
mind  turned  strongly  to  psychology  and  metaphysics, 
and  the  human  mind  became  to  me  the  most  absorbing 
theme  that  could  engage  a  man's  attention. 

"In  my  study  of  anatomy,  I  tried  to  locate  the  seat 
of  consciousness.  In  the  laboratory  I  became  con- 
vinced that  so  far  as  concerns  man's  body,  he  was  no 
more  than  any  other  animal.  In  fact,  I  know  that  the 
atoms  that  compose  man's  body  are  identical  with  the 
atoms  composing  all  animal  and  vegetable  life.  I  fur- 
ther learned  that  these  atoms  in  their  last  analysis  are 
nothing  but  force,  electricity,  if  you  please.  All  so- 
called  matter  is  embedded  in  the  universal  ether,  so 
that  it  is  a  part  and  parcel  of  this  mysterious  sub- 
stance we  call  the  universal  ether,  for  lack  of  a  better 
name.  Back  of  this  force,  or  universal  ether,  is  mind 
— the  universal  mind — the  all-mind — God. 

"I  became  convinced  that  matter  and  force  are  sim- 
ply forms,  or  manifestations,  of  mind,  and  that,  inas- 
much as  all  so-called  matter  is  identical,  all  life  had  a 
common  origin.  This  common  origin,  to  my  mind, 
could  have  been  no  other  than  the  universal  mind, 
giving  expression  in  force  and  matter. 

"But  I  found  that  while  man's  atoms  and  origin  were 
identical  with  all  other  forms  of  life,  there  was  some- 
thing that  removed  him  from  the  highest  forms  of 
animal  life  as  far  as  the  heavens  are  above  the  earth. 

"My  investigations  and  experiments  led  me  to  study 
the  brain  of  man  as  the  seat  of  his  intelligence.     I 


170  Peggy     Ware 

became  an  acknowledged  authority  on  the  brain,  and 
wrote  a  book  that  has  been  accepted  as  authoritative 
by  the  medical  profession  throughout  Europe  and  this 
country. 

"In  my  book  I  took  the  position,  as  you  already 
know,  that  the  brain  is  but  the  instrument  of  the  soul 
— the  soul  being  the  real  I,  the  man  himself,  while  the 
body  is  merely  his  temporary  abode. 

"It  was  natural  that  I  should  make  a  study  of  so- 
called  insanity.  It  was  this  phase  of  my  work  that 
finally  brought  me  to  the  United  States.  The  wife  of 
a  great  fiancier  had  been  pronounced  hopelessly  insane, 
and  owing  to  the  peculiar  form  of  her  malady,  unlike 
any  case  on  record,  I  crossed  the  ocean  to  treat  her. 
Her  cure  was  considered  by  the  profession  almost  a 
miracle,  but  I  knew  that  it  was  the  application  of  sim- 
ple mental  laws  that  brought  about  the  healing. 

"I  had  heard  of  a  peculiar  form  of  insanity  in  the 
mountains  of  the  South,  especially  among  the  women, 
called  the  "lonesome  disease,"  and  it  was  partly  to 
study  this  strange  phenomenon  and  partly  for  recrea- 
tion that  I  came  to  Chattanooga. 

"Here  I  heard  of  Bucks  Pocket,  the  Peggy  Ware 
School,  and  was  also  told  that  I  could  find  in  this 
neighborhood  the  genuine  "lonesome"  disease.  So  I 
boarded  the  steamer  at  Chattanooga  for  Bucks  Pocket, 
landed  at  the  most  available  point,  and  was  proceeding 
in  this  direction,  when  two  inquisitive  strangers,  think- 
ing me  a  revenue  officer,  proceeded  to  knock  me  on  the 
head  and  bury  me.  You  know  my  story  from  that 
interesting  episode  to  the  present  moment. 

"I  might  add,  by  way  of  explanation,  that  when  I 
was  a  boy  I  was  very  much  attached  to  the  old  Swiss 
bell  ringer  who  resided  in  our  village.  It  was  the 
height  of  my  ambition  at  that  stage  of  my  life  to  fol- 


The  Awakening  171 

low  his  profession.  He  taught  me  what  I  know  about 
ringing  the  chimes,  and  having  considerable  musical 
talent,  I  was  an  apt  pupil.  Today,  as  I  heard  the 
chimes  for  the  first  time  in  Bucks  Pocket,  I  seemed  to 
be  a  boy  again  in  the  little  Swiss  village,  standing  be- 
side my  dear  old  friend,  when  all  at  once  the  bells 
seemed  to  thunder  my  name  in  my  ears. 

"This  is  my  story,  and  I  am  the  happiest  man  in  all 
the  land,  for  now  I  can  take  up  my  work  where  I  left 
it  off." 

"Which  means,  I  suppose,  that  you  will  leave  us  and 
return  to  Switzerland,"  said  Peggy,  a  catch  in  her  voice 
and  her  lips  once  more  deathly  white. 

"I  have  no  plans  for  the  immediate  future,"  he  de- 
clared. "I  haven't  a  relative  in  the  world,  and  no 
reason  for  going  any  particular  place.  My  work  may 
be  here.  I  am  going  to  wait  and  see.  I  am  sure  I  will 
know  when  the  time  comes  to  decide." 

"Oh,  I  do  hope  you  won't  go  away,  Doctor  Weston," 
exclaimed  Ruth.  "Peggy  and  I  could  never  live  here 
after  you  were  gone  !"  She  threw  her  arms  impulsively 
about  Peggy  and  pressed  her  cheek  to  Peggy's,  golden 
hair  mingling  with  raven  tresses. 

The  man  looked  at  the  picture  thus  made  by  the 
two  girls  long  and  earnestly.  They  were  both  beauti- 
ful, but  of  a  very  different  type.  Ruth  was  vibrant 
with  the  life  of  the  green  grass,  the  bursting  buds,  the 
babbling  brooks,  the  songs  of  the  birds.  She  was  the 
child  of  nature,  and  her  every  gesture  was  eloquent  of 
the  magnetism  of  her  body. 

Peggy,  while  possessing  all  the  charms  of  a  red- 
blooded  woman,  was  filled  with  a  something  that  made 
you  think  of  starry  heights,  the  ocean's  roll,  the  cry  of 
humanity,  the  cross  of  Calvary,  the  crown  of  glory, 
and  the  music  of  the  spheres. 


172  Peggy     Ware 

He  was  spellbound  as  he  watched  the  lights  and 
shadows  that  played  on  the  faces  of  these  two  unusual 
women — one  contented,  happy  in  her  love  for  him, 
accepting  his  every  word  and  thought  as  her  own ;  the 
other,  a  soul  touched  by  the  Divine  spark,  responding 
to  his  thoughts,  leaping  the  intellectual  and  spiritual 
heights  by  his  side,  or  perhaps  preceding  him  and  beck- 
oning him  to  follow. 

To  Ruth  the  whole  world  revolved  around  Doctor 
Weston,  and  nothing  more  was  to  be  desired ;  while  to 
Peggy  he  was  a  kindred  spirit,  a  soul  that  had  come  to 
her  soul  out  of  the  night,  and  their  thoughts,  their 
hopes,  their  aims  were  one,  and  words  were  unneces- 
sary between  them. 

Suddenly  he  exclaimed :  "Peggy,  where  have  I 
known  you  before?  I  have  a  vision  of  you  sitting  by 
my  side,  holding  my  hand  for  ages.  It  seems  that  it 
was  from  the  beginning — from  the  time  my  soul  first 
awoke  from  its  long  sleep." 

Peggy  did  not  reply.  She  probably  could  not  have 
done  so,  if  she  had  tried. 

He  continued:  "I  had  this  peculiar  feeling  as  I  lay 
unconscious  after  receiving  my  injury — that  some  good 
angel  had  been  with  me  through  a  million  years  of 
unconscious  wanderings,  and  finally  when  I  found  my- 
self, this  good  angel,"  patting  Ruth's  head,  "sat  beside 
me  and  held  my  hand." 

Ruth  did  not  tell  him  that  it  was  Peggy  who  held  his 
hand  through  the  long  night,  while  his  soul  wandered 
through  strange  lands,  tempted  never  to  return  to  his 
body,  brought  back,  perhaps,  by  the  longings  of  Peggy's 
soul. 

Peggy  could  not  tell  him;  nor  did  she  want  him  to 
know.     She  hoped  that  this  secret  would  be  hidden 


The  Awakening  173 

from  him  until  that  day  when  their  souls  should  stand 
revealed,  free  from  the  limitations  of  the  flesh. 

They  had  sat  down  on  a  moss-covered  bank  by  the 
roadside,  beneath  the  shadow  of  a  giant  white  oak, 
hundreds  of  years  old.  The  spirit  of  God  seemed  to  be 
brooding  over  Bucks  Pocket,  and  Peggy,  at  least,  felt 
that  a  great  work  was  being  wrought  here  in  the  wilds 
of  nature,  with  Nature's  untutored  children. 

This  feeling  was  shared  to  some  extent  by  Dr.  Wes- 
ton, who  said :  "I  feel  somehow  drawn  to  this  spot  by 
an  unseen  force,  and  it  may  be  that  here,  where  I  lost 
my  name,  I  am  to  lose  myself." 

"Perhaps  it  is  here  that  you  are  to  find  yourself, 
Doctor  Weston.  Your  coming  here  is  a  part  of  the 
great  design  in  the  weaving  of  life's  web,"  said  Peggy. 
"We  may  not  be  able  to  see,  but  the  Weaver  knows. 
The  weaver  is  the  soul,  and  he  leaves  nothing  to 
chance,  for  the  soul  is  an  expression  of  the  Divine  intel- 
ligence that  sees  and  knows  the  end  from  the  be- 
ginning." 

A  savage  growl  startled  the  little  group,  and,  looking 
in  the  direction  from  which  it  proceeded,  they  saw  two 
men  of  the  rough  mountaineer  type  leading  a  vicious- 
looking  bulldog.  His  eyes  were  red  and  bloodshot,  his 
tongue  black  and  swollen,  protruding  from  his  mouth, 
while  he  was  well  nigh  exhausted  from  his  fierce  efforts 
to  break  away  from  the  two  men.  Each  man  had  a 
rope  about  his  neck,  so  that  if  he  started  in  the  direc- 
tion of  one  of  them  the  other  could  pull  him  in  the 
opposite  direction. 

Peggy,  always  solicitous  about  anything  in  distress, 
even  an  ugly  dog,  asked  the  men  to  stop  and  tell  her 
about  this  miserable,  savage-looking  animal. 

"Wall,  Miss,"  said  one  of  them,  "this  is  the  meanest 
dog  in  Bucks  Pocket.     He  belonged  to  old  man  Renfro, 


174  Peggy     Ware 

who  lived  up  in  one  o'  them  deep  gulches  all  by  hisself, 
jest  him  an'  the  dog.  They  named  him  Satan  when 
he  were  a  pup,  an'  nobody  would  have  him  'cept  the  ol' 
man.  When  he  growed  up,  he  could  whopp  any  six 
dogs  in  the  Pocket,  an'  no  man  wus  safe  to  come  nigh 
ol'  Renfro's  cabin.  The  ol'  man  died  sometime  back, 
we  don't  know  jist  how  long,  but  some  folks  seed  the 
buzzards  flyin'  roun'  his  cabin,  and  we  decided  to  see 
what  it  all  meant.  We  crawled  up  becase  we  wus 
afeerd  of  Satan,  an'  when  we  got  whare  we  could  see, 
thare  lay  the  ol'  man  out  in  the  yard,  the  dog  settin' 
by  him,  an'  every  time  a  buzzard  would  try  to  light 
Satan  would  lunge  at  him  like  the  very  devil.  He  seed 
us,  an'  started  at  us  like  a  mountain  lion  that  ain't 
had  nuthin'  to  eat  in  a  month,  an'  we  tore  down  the 
bushes  gittin'  away. 

"We  finally  got  Bill  Jenkins,  who  is  a  ol'  cow- 
puncher,  to  lasso  him,  and  when  he  got  one  lasso 
roun'  his  neck,  and  tied  it  to  a  tree,  he  throwed  another 
one  aroun'  his  neck,  and  tied  it  to  another  tree,  so's 
we  could  git  to  the  ol'  man  and  plant  him.  Now  we're 
takin'  him  down  to  the  river  to  drown  him,  becase 
none  of  us  like  to  shoot  a  dog,  even  ef  he  is  as  mean 
as  the  devil.     It's  bad  luck,  you  know." 

"Won't  you  give  him  to  me?"  asked  Peggy.  "I  want 
him." 

The  men  looked  at  her  in  speechless  amazement. 
They  knew  and  respected  Peggy,  and  her  desire  would 
be  to  them  a  command  in  ordinary  matters;  but  her 
wish  to  own  Satan  was  little  short  of  madness.  "You 
shorely  don't  mean  it,  Miss,"  said  the  spokesman. 
"He'd  kill  you  ef  he  wus  turned  loose,  an'  ef  we  tried 
to  take  the  lassoes  off,  he'd  eat  us  up." 

Without  further  argument,  Peggy  approached  the 


The  Awakening  175 

angry  dog.  He  growled  viciously,  and  the  men  pulled 
hard  on  their  ropes. 

"Let  go  the  ropes,"  she  commanded,  and  they  did 
so,  hurrying  to  a  safe  distance. 

Slowly,  calmly,  she  approached  him,  her  eyes  looking 
kindly  into  the  lurid  eyes  of  the  dog,  speaking  gently, 
soothingly.  He  began  to  wag  his  tail,  and  as  she 
placed  one  hand  on  his  head  he  whined,  and  the  tears 
came  to  his  inflamed  eyes,  angry  no  longer,  and  with 
his  parched  tongue,  he  gently  licked  her  free  hand. 

She  removed  the  ropes,  and  putting  her  arms  where 
they  had  cut  his  flesh,  she  said :  "Come  home  with  me. 
I  want  you.  I  understand  you.  You  have  never  had 
a  chance,  but  your  opportunity  is  coming.  I  am  going 
to  give  you  a  new  name,  for  you  are  entering  on  a  new 
life.  In  the  old  life  they  called  you  Satan  (that  means 
self;  but  in  your  new  life  you  are  to  be  known  as  Hero, 
for  no  dog,  or  man  either,  can  be  a  hero  until  he  gets 
rid  of  Satan." 

Peggy  laughed  at  this  odd  conceit  of  hers,  and  the 
others  joined  her,  the  two  men  going  away,  shaking 
their  heads  in  bewilderment,  muttering,  "She  ain't  lak 
nobody  else  in  this  world." 

At  the  forks  of  the  road  Peggy  told  Doctor  Weston 
and  Ruth  good-by.  They  watched  her  until  she  dis- 
appeared over  a  little  hill,  Hero  walking  lovingly  by 
her  side,  while  one  of  her  hands  rested  on  his  head. 


Chapter  Fourteen 
BACK  TO  THE  OLD  HOME 

WILBUR  WARE  had  been  consumed  by  a  desire 
to  return  to  his  old  home,  but  his  life  had  been 
so  full  of  activity  since  his  new  birth,  that  he 
had  not  at  first  mentioned  it  to  Peggy.  He  had  pur- 
chased a  plain  marble  slab  for  his  wife's  grave,  intend- 
ing to  put  it  in  place  with  his  own  hands  whenever  he 
could  afford  to  make  the  trip. 

Finally  he  confided  in  Peggy,  and  she  was  more 
eager  than  her  father,  if  possible,  to  carry  out  his  plans. 

It  was  now  the  time  of  the  summer  vacation,  and 
both  were  hoping  that  they  might  go  before  the  open- 
ing of  school  in  the  autumn.  In  their  perplexity,  Cliff 
Anderson,  as  usual,  came  to  the  rescue. 

One  morning,  just  after  the  family  had  finished  break- 
fast, he  burst  in  unceremoniously.  "I  jest  come  to  tell 
you  that  my  big  automobile  come  down  on  the  boat 
last  night,"  he  said,  "and  I  brought  her  over  an'  she's 
standin'  out  on  the  front.  The  feller  I  bought  it  frum 
in  Chattanooga  showed  me  how  to  run  it.  Mebbe 
you'd  like  to  look  at  her." 

Before  he  had  finished,  Peggy  was  half  way  to  the 
front  gate,  followed  by  Ralph  and  Virginia,  while 
Ware  and  Anderson  brought  up  the  rear. 

Peggy  was  laughing  through  her  tears  when  Ander- 
son and  her  father  came  up.  "What's  the  matter,  Miss 
Peggy?"  asked  Anderson.     "Don't  you  like  her?" 

"I  do  like  it,  Mr.  Anderson.     I  think  it  is  beautiful, 

176 


Back  to  the;  Old  Home  177 

wonderful,  but  you  should  not  have  done  that,  Mr.  An- 
derson." And  she  pointed  to  big  letters  on  the  body 
of  the  car,  reading  "Peggy  Ware  School,  Bucks  Pocket. 

"You  have  done  too  much  already,  and  you  must 
have  the  lettering  removed.  This  car  is  for  you,  Mrs. 
Anderson,  and  Ruth,  and  I  am  so  happy  for  them  to 
have  it.  And  you  must  not  spoil  it  with  those  big 
letters." 

"Wall,  now,  I  recon  that  is  the  purtyest  part  about 
the  car,  an'  Molly  an'  Ruth  insisted  on  it,  an'  'corse  I 
couldn't  help  myself."  And  he  laughed  good-naturedly. 

"She  belongs  to  the  Peggy  Ware  School,  all  right, 
but  we  can  all  ride  in  her,  an'  all  I  ax  is  that  I  can  De 
your  chawfer." 

He  cut  further  protest  short  by  saying: 

"When  will  you  all  be  ready  to  go  up  in  the  Cum- 
berlands  to  yore  old  home?  Me  an'  Molly'll  be  ready 
in  the  mornin'.  I  had  been  keepin'  it  as  a  sort  of 
'sprise  to  you,"  he  added,  apologetically. 

"Can  we  be  ready  by  morning,  Peggy?"  asked  her 
father,  trembling  with  excitement  at  this  unexpected 
fulfillment  of  his  dream. 

"We  can  be  ready,  father,  but  what  about  Ralph, 
Virginia,  and  Simon?"  replied  Peggy,  her  thoughts 
always  of  others. 

"Molly  an'  me  done  settled  all  that.  Molly's  sister 
is  comin'  to  stay  with  Ruth,  an'  the  kids  can  go  up 
thare  an'  have  a  good  time  while  we  are  gone.  It'll  be 
a  change  for  'em,  an'  Simon  kin  eat  up  thare  an'  help 
out  with  the  chores. 

"Doctor  Weston  can  keep  things  straight,  an'  the 
chilluns  will  fall  in  love  with  him,  for  he  is  the  finest 
man  I  ever  knowed.  I  wus  suspicious  of  him  at  fust, 
an'  didn't  lak  him,  but  ef  thare  ever  wus  a  perfect 
man,  it's  him." 


178  Peggy    Ware 

He  looked  away  across  the  Tennessee  to  the  Cum- 
berland range,  dimly  outlined  in  the  distance,  lost  in 
thought  for  a  long  time,  Peggy  watching  his  face  that 
had  come  to  be  so  wonderful  to  her  in  its  expression. 

Bringing  himself  out  of  his  reverie  with  a  great  sigh, 
he  said :  "I  jest  been  wonderin'  whut  it  all  means,  this 
change  in  Bucks  Pocket.  I  know  it  all  started  when 
Miss  Peggy  come,  but  whut  brought  her,  I'd  like  to 
know?" 

"Then  here  comes  this  Doctor  Weston,  an'  gits 
knocked  on  the  head  an'  left  fer  dead,  en,  ef  he  hadn't, 
I  guess  he'd  a  been  gone  long  ago,  but  now  he's  gwine 
to  stay,  an'  he's  axed  Ruth  to  marry  him. 

"Next  the  parson  here,  who  didn't  believe  in  God  at 
all,  has  changed  his  mind,  an'  it's  jest  good  to  see  him. 
An'  thare's  the  school,  an'  the  church,  an'  the  bells 
makin'  the  mos'  wonderful  music  on  Sunday  mornin', 
an'  it's  heaven  right  here  in  Bucks  Pocket,  whare  it 
used  to  be  Hell." 

"  I  wonder  ef  God  really  had  anything  to  do  with 
it?"  and  again  he  looked  far  away  to  his  favorite  moun- 
tains.    "What  do  you  think,  Miss  Peggy?" 

"I  think,  Mr.  Anderson,"  replied  Peggy,  "that  God 
guides  every  one  of  us,  and  that  we  all  have  a  work  to 
do  in  this  world.  Sometimes  we  refuse  to  follow  His 
guidance,  close  our  ears  to  the  Divine  voice,  and  fail 
to  do  our  work,  but  it  is  never  God's  fault,  but  ours." 

"I  have  tried  to  follow  the  voice.  I  had  a  vision  of 
this  work,  and  deserve  no  credit  for  what  little  I  have 
done,  for  I  have  done  nothing  more  than  my  duty  as  I 
saw  it.  What  I  have  done  is  so  little  compared  to 
what  you  have  done,"  and  she  grasped  his  hand,  look- 
ing earnestly  into  his  face.  "You  have  done  every- 
thing, Mr.  Anderson,  and  it  ought  to  be  called  the 
'Cliff  Anderson  School,'     You  are  the  big  instrument 


Back  to  the;  Old  Home  179 

in  God's  hand,  and  I  have  been  the  means  of  getting 
the  music  out  of  the  big  fiddle." 

Anderson  chuckled  at  this  comparison.  "You're  the 
fust  one  that  ever  got  any  music  outen  me,"  he  said. 
"An'  I  don't  think  it's  me  at  all ;  it's  all  you,  an'  I  am 
jest  like  one  of  them  big  rock  walls  way  up  yander, 
that  sends  the  echo  of  the  bells  back  across  the  valley 
an'  out  over  the  Tennessee  yander.  Ef  I  kin  jest  echo 
yore  music,  Miss  Peggy,  it  will  be  all  I  want.  Jest  to 
stan'  lak  one  of  them  cliffs  an'  send  back  the  music  of 
yore  soul  to  these  mountain  boys  an'  gals  an'  their 
daddies  and  mammies. 

"And  when  the  old  Cliff  falls,  sometime,  jest  put  on 
my  tombstone,  'He  tried  to  be  a  good  echo.'  " 

Peggy's  eyes  were  overflowing  with  tears.  Her 
father's  hand  rested  on  the  broad  shoulder  of  the  stal- 
wart ex-soldier  and  ex-King  of  the  Wild  Catters,  and 
it  was  some  time  before  the  silence  was  broken. 

"You  are  one  of  God's  noblemen,  Mr.  Anderson," 
spoke  Wilbur  Ware,  with  great  feeling.  "And  if  I 
can  be  half  as  big  an  echo  as  you  have  been  to  us,  I 
shall  be  happy. 

"My  life  has  been  such  a  failure  that  I  stand  con- 
demned before  you.  With  all  my  education  and  oppor- 
tunities I  had  at  last  to  learn  from  you,  Simon,  and 
Peggy.  To  you  I  owe  much,  Mr.  Anderson — more 
than  I  can  ever  repay !" 

A  look  of  pain  swept  over  Anderson's  face.  He 
shrank  as  from  a  blow.  His  usually  steady  hands  shook 
like  one  with  palsy.  In  a  voice  that  seemed  unnatural 
and  far  away,  he  said  :  "Don't  talk  that  way.  It  hurts 
me.  I  ain't  nuthin'  but  the  meanest  ol'  devil  in  Bucks 
Pocket,  an'  some  day  you'll  hate  me  wuser  than  pizen." 

Slowly  he  got  into  the  new  automobile,  and  he 
seemed  to  have  grown  old  suddenly.     There  was   a 


180  Peggy    Ware 

stoop  to  his  shoulders,  a  weariness  to  his  step  that 
they  had  not  seen  before.  As  he  was  leaving,  he  turned 
and  looked  back  out  of  sad,  lusterless  eyes. 

"Be  ready  in  the  mornin'  by  six  o'clock,"  he  said, 
"fer  it'll  take  us  all  day  to  git  to  Chattanooga." 

5JC  *  5)5  *  *  ^  ♦ 

Before  the  sun's  first  rays  had  penetrated  to  the 
depths  of  the  forest  the  "Peggy  Ware  School"  auto- 
mobile was  ready  for  its  first  journey. 

Cliff  Anderson  said:  "Molly  has  put  in  grub  jest 
lak  they  warn't  nuthin'  to  eat  outside  Bucks  Pocket." 

Ralph  and  Virginia  were  delighted  to  stay  at  Ander- 
son's big  house.  Simon's  soul  rejoiced  because  Peggy 
and  her  father  were  going  back  to  the  grave  of  his 
"Young  Missus." 

When  Peggy  said,  sorrowfully :  "I  am  sorry  you 
can't  go,  Simon,"  the  old  man  replied  cheerfully: 

"Don't  mind  me,  chile.  I'll  be  dah  befo'  you  all  gits 
dah.  I  foun'  out  long  ergo  to  trabel  widout  goin'  no- 
whare,  an'  I  will  be  stan'in'  by  young  Misses  grabe 
when  Massa  Ware  gwine  ter  preach  he  gran'est  sar- 
mon  you  ebah  heerd." 

He  looked  the  prophet,  with  his  venerable  features, 
his  unfathomable  eyes,  his  snow  white  hair.  "A  black 
seer,  a  black  saint,"  thought  Peggy.  "What  vast  store- 
houses of  wisdom  you  have  entered  that  the  worldly 
wise  know  nothing  about." 

Ruth  was  radiantly  beautiful,  and  radiantly  happy, 
as  she  stood  beside  Doctor  Weston,  waving  farewell, 
and  his  face  reflected  a  soul  at  peace. 

Molly  Anderson's  enthusiasm  bubbled  like  a  moun- 
tain spring,  while  her  husband  showed  unusual  excite- 
ment for  him. 

Wilbur  Ware's  heart  was  too  full  for  utterance.  In 
the  silence  of  his  soul  he  communed  with  God. 


Back  to  the  Old  Home  181 

Peggy,  whose  laugh  was  the  merriest,  whose  eyes 
were  the  brightest,  whose  cheeks  the  rosiest,  the  heart 
and  soul  of  every  group,  shrank  in  her  corner  of  the 
big  automobile,  tugging,  tugging  at  the  thorn  in  her 
heart.  The  more  she  tugged,  the  worse  it  pained  her, 
until  she  resolved  just  to  leave  it  alone  and  forget  it. 

As  they  climbed  the  splendid  road  that  carried  them 
out  of  Bucks  Pocket  to  the  top  of  the  mountain,  she 
recalled  their  entry  in  an  ox  wagon,  over  an  almost 
impassable  trail.  She  drew  a  word  picture  of  the 
scene,  the  old  Wild  Catter,  with  his  long  squirrel  rifle, 
the  beard  hiding  his  features  completely  except  his 
eyes,  and  his  insistence  that  the  Wares  must  not  enter 
Bucks  Pocket. 

"That  wus  Mart  Suttles,"  said  Anderson.  He  has 
cut  them  whiskers  off.  Got  enough  hair  offen  his  face 
an'  head  to  pad  a  saddle  blanket,  an'  now  he  looks 
purty  respectable. 

"You  know  he  has  been  gwine  to  yore  'literate 
school,  an'  he  kin  read  a  lettle  an'  write  his  name,  too. 
He  is  so  proud  of  it  that  he  goes  around  with  a  piece 
of  chalk  in  his  pocket,  plankin'  down  'Mart  Suttles' 
wharever  he  kin  find  a  big  enuf  place  to  write  it.  I 
tell  you  it  all  seems  lak  a  dream  to  me.  Ef  it  ain't  no 
dream,  then  somethin'  is  leadin'  us  shore  as  yore  born, 
an'  ef  it  is  somethin'  leadin'  us,  I  recon  they  ain't 
nothin'  to  do  but  foller. 

"I've  got  a  strange  feelin'  this  mornin'  that  some- 
thin' goin'  to  happen,  an'  I  jest  lak  to  think  we're  bein' 
led,  'case  ef  we  is  they  can't  nuthin'  bad  happen  to  us." 

No  one  made  any  reply.  Anderson  was  not  much  of 
a  talker,  but  when  he  got  to  going  everyone  listened, 
for  he  was  likely  to  say  something  that  you  might  have 
said  yourself,  if  you  had  only  thought  about  it.     He 


182  Peggy     Ware: 

was  so  abrupt  and  unexpected  in  his  remarks  that  you 
never  knew  what  was  coming  next. 

"They  ain't  nobody  along  this  road  'cept  us  an'  the 
birds,  an'  I  want  you  to  sing  that  'Kindly  Light'  song 
that  you  sing  fer  us  at  church  sometimes — the  one  you 
said  President  McKinley  loved.  It  seems  to  me  thay 
ain't  no  better  place  in  the  world  to  sing  it." 

Without  waiting  to  be  urged,  Peggy  poured  forth 
the  words  of  the  soul-inspiring  hymn.  The  mocking 
birds  ceased  their  songs  to  listen,  and  a  thousand  spirit 
voices  seemed  to  take  up  the  words  and  echo  them 
through  the  forest. 

"The  night  is  dark,  and  I  am  far  from  home, 
Lead  Thou  me  on," 

And  the  golden  voice  died  away,  the  echoes  traveled 
farther  and  farther  until  you  could  not  distinguish  their 
faintest  whispers,  and  then  a  thousand  birds  burst  into 
a  hallelujah  anthem. 

******* 

When  they  reached  Chattanooga,  they  realized  for 
the  first  time  that  they  were  creating  a  sensation. 
Whether  Cliff  Anderson  had  any  such  idea  in  his  head 
when  he  had  placed  in  big  letters  "PEGGY  WARE 
SCHOOL,  BUCKS  POCKET,"  on  the  sides  of  the 
automobile,  was  a  matter  of  conjecture,  for  he  kept  his 
own  counsel.  Crowds  gathered  wherever  they  stopped 
and  began  to  ask  questions. 

A  newspaper  reporter,  attracted  by  the  unusual  sign, 
and  probably  by  the  unusually  beautiful  face  of  Peggy 
Ware,  attached  himself  to  the  party  and  became  mas- 
ter of  ceremonies.  Here  was  a  big  story,  and  his  paper 
needed  it. 

Peggy  protested  stoutly,  but  for  once  Anderson  had 
his  way,  and  the  outfit  was  soon  photographed  collec- 


Back  to  the  Old  Home  183 

tively  and  individually.  Peggy  was  very  beautiful, 
even  if  greatly  embarrassed,  as  she  posed  for  the  pho- 
tographer. At  the  hotel  she  had  to  reveal  her  whole 
life,  her  work,  her  plans,  her  dreams,  to  this  inquisi- 
tive young  man. 

When  he  had  found  out  all  she  knew,  and  some 
things  she  did  not  know,  he  turned  his  batteries  on 
Wilbur  Ware,  Cliff  Anderson,  and  Molly. 

He  was  told  that  they  intended  to  leave  early  the 
following  morning,  but  he  persuaded  them  to  remain 
over  a  day  as  the  guests  of  his  paper,  promising  to  show 
them  the  Chickamauga  battlefields,  and  many  other 
places  of  interest.  He  knew  that  there  were  several 
good  stories  in  connection  with  the  Peggy  Ware  School 
and  Bucks  Pocket  and  he  proposed  to  scoop  the  rival 
paper  in  good  shape. 

When  Peggy  retired  at  the  big  hotel,  she  little 
dreamed  that  she  would  awake  famous  on  the  morrow. 
She  slept  late,  and  was  finally  awakened  by  Mrs.  An- 
derson whispering  through  the  keyhole  :  "Git  up  quick, 
Peggy,  they's  a  whole  passel  of  folks  waitin'  to  see 
you.     Cliff  says  the  mayor  is  here  an'  a  lot  o'  big  bugs." 

Peggy  was  frightened  when  Mrs.  Anderson  spoke  of 
the  mayor.  She  opened  the  door  and  invited  her  in. 
"What  is  the  trouble,  Mrs.  Anderson?  What  have  we 
done?"  queried  Peggy,  in  much  perplexity. 

"It  wus  all  that  cheeky  newspaper  feller,"  said 
Molly.  "I  can't  read  much,  but  he's  got  yore  picter  on 
the  front  page,  an'  on  another  one  of  me  an'  Cliff  and 
yore  daddy,  an'  the  automobile  with  all  them  big  let- 
ters on  it. 

"An'  yore  pap's  been  readin'  it  to  me  and  Cliff.  He 
told  all  about  yore  school,  an'  yore  dad's  church,  an' 
the  thousand  acres  of  land  we  deeded  the  school.  An' 
then  he  told  erbout  Cliff  bein'  one  time  the  Kingr  of  the 


184  Peggy     Ware; 

Wild  Catters,  an'  what  good  whiskey  he  used  to  make, 
an'  erbout  yore  pap  being'  a  preacher  here  in  Chat- 
tanooga, whare  you  wus  born,  an'  yore  baby  sister 
bein'  stole  by  gypsies,  an'  a  whole  passel  more  I  can't 
remember,  and  about  a  thousand  lies,  too ;  some  of  'em 
being  about  me,  an'  I'm  gwine  to  tell  him  what  I  think 
of  him  if  he  comes  roun'  me  any  more,  grinnin'  an' 
bowin'  like  a  jumpin'  jack." 

Peggy  was  hurrying  into  her  clothes,  so  excited  that 
she  hardly  realized  what  she  was  doing. 

When  Mrs.  Anderson  characterized  the  reporter  as 
a  jumping  jack,  Peggy  laughed,  and  said:  "What  did 
he  say  about  you,  Mrs.  Anderson?" 

"He  said  I  looked  meek  and  lowly,  an'  when  yore 
dad  read  that  Cliff  jest  roared  an'  said:  'Well  she 
shore  deceives  her  looks.'  An'  I  ain't  gwine  to  stan' 
fer  any  sich  insult." 

Peggy  was  too  much  exicted  to  prolong  the  con- 
versation, and  hastened  to  where  her  father  and  Cliff 
Anderson  were  waiting  for  her. 

"Has  Molly  told  you  the  news?"  asked  Anderson. 

"Yes,"  replied  Peggy,  "she  has  given  me  a  sketch  of 
what  the  paper  has  to  say  about  us ;  but  I  don't  see 
why  it  should  interest  strangers." 

"Wall,  now,  you  jest  wait  a  minit  'til  you  see  that 
gang  down  thare  in  the  parlor,  headed  by  the  mayor," 
said  Anderson.  "That  newspaper  kid  has  got  'em  all 
corralled  an'  they  are  callin'  fer  Peggy  Ware." 

"Oh,  I  can't  face  them.  I'm  afraid,"  Peggy  ex- 
claimed, as  she  clung  to  her  father's  arm. 

Wilbur  Ware's  face  was  very  grave  and  serious,  but 
happy.  "Peggy,"  he  said  gently,  "it  is  very  wonderful, 
the  way  God  is  leading  you.  There  is  nothing  for  you 
to  fear,  my  child.  Just  follow  the  light,  as  you  have 
done  when  your  way  was  so  dark,  and  all  will  be  well." 


Back  to  the  Old  Home  185 

When  she  appeared  at  the  doorway  where  the  mayor 
and  others  awaited  her,  there  was  a  murmur  of  aston- 
ishment. 

"This  is  my  daughter,  Peggy  Ware,"  her  father  said, 
somewhat  proudly,  as  every  one  present  rose  to  greet 
her. 

"I  am  so  glad  you  came  to  see  me,"  she  said  sweetly; 
and  the  one  sentence  from  the  simple  mountain  girl, 
simply  clad,  had,  made  a  champion  of  every  man 
present. 

The  mayor  told  her  briefly  that  he  had  read  in  the 
morning  paper  of  her  school,  and  that  he  had  often 
dreamed  of  such  an  institution  for  the  boys  and  girls 
of  the  mountains,  as  he  was  a  product  of  the  mountains 
himself,  but  that  it  had  been  left  for  her  to  establish 
the  first  school  where  these  boys  and  girls,  no  matter 
how  poor,  could  be  educated  under  the  most  favorable 
conditions  in  the  world.  He  said  he  considered  it  an 
honor  to  meet  her  and  to  be  allowed  to  be  of  some 
service  to  her  institution. 

Deferentially,  he  asked  how  she  proposed  to  get 
funds  to  maintain  the  school. 

Peggy  looked  around  quite  helplessly  as  she  was 
called  to  answer  this  momentous  question.  Blushing 
and  somewhat  confused,  she  said: 

"I  haven't  thought  very  much  about  where  the  money 
would  come  from.  I  just  know  it  will  come  when  we 
need  it,"  and  her  eyes  were  full  of  faith  as  she  looked 
calmly  into  the  eyes  of  the  mayor. 

He  was  profoundly  impressed,  and  bowing  rever- 
ently before  this  mountain  maid,  he  said : 

"In  the  language  of  our  Master,  'I  have  not  seen 
such  faith,  no  not  in  all  Israel'." 

He  insisted  on  calling  a  public  meeting  for  the  bene- 


186  Peggy     Ware; 

fit  of  the  Peggy  Ware  School,  and  it  was  arranged  that 
this  meeting  should  be  held  when  the  Wares  and  An- 
dersons returned  to  Chattanooga  on  their  way  home. 

Peggy  Ware  was  the  sensation  of  Chattanooga.  The 
story  of  her  achievements  seemed  to  electrify  every 
heart,  and  her  name  was  on  every  tongue. 

A  busy  day  spent  in  sight-seeing,  every  moment  of 
which  was  the  opening  of  a  new  world  to  Molly  An- 
derson, who  had  never  traveled  beyond  her  county- 
seat  town  before,  and  another  night  in  the  big  hotel, 
from  which  Peggy  could  look  down  on  myriads  of 
dancing  lights,  and  the  party  was  ready  for  the  journey 
to  the  old  home. 

There  was  but  little  talking  during  the  day,  as  no 
one  seemed  inclined  to  be  communicative  except  Molly 
Anderson.  The  others  were  occupied  with  their 
thoughts. 

"You  are  the  silentest  lot  I  ever  seed,"  said  Mrs.  An- 
derson, peevishly.  "Here  I  am  jest  a-bustin'  open  to 
talk  about  all  I've  seen,  an'  you  all  set  here  an'  say 
nuthin.  I  never  knowed  the  world  wus  half  so  big 
before,  an'  I  am  that  excited  I  ain't  got  good  sense." 

As  no  one  replied,  she  poked  her  husband  in  the  ribs 
half  angrily.  "Wake  up,  Cliff,  an'  tell  me  sumthin'. 
Ain't  this  the  place  whare  you  got  Ruth?"  She  did  not 
seemingly  complete  the  sentence,  but  the  big  man  by 
her  side  was  wide-awake  now  and  annoyed,  if  not 
angry. 

"Yes,"  he  hissed,  "this  is  the  place  whare  I  got 
Ruth's  big  doll  the  last  time  I  wus  ever  up  here.  I 
wonder  how  many  more  times  you're  gwine  to  ax  me 
that  d — d  fool  question." 

"  'Scuse  me,  Cliff,  I  didn't  think."  And  she  seemed 
half  afraid  of  her  husband. 


Back  to  the  Old  Home;  187 

"I  ax  yore  pardon,  all  uv  you,"  he  said,  shamefacedly. 
"Jest  when  you  think  you  got  the  devil  down,  he  rises 
up  an'  trips  you.  I  guess  it's  a  rasselin'  match  with  a 
feller  like  me  all  his  life." 

"Never  mind,  Mr.  Anderson,"  said  Peggy.  "It 
doesn't  sound  half  bad  when  you  say  it,  and  we'll  all 
forget  it,  if  you  want  us  too." 

He  turned  in  his  seat  so  he  could  look  her  squarely 
in  the  face. 

"I'm  lookin'  at  the  best  angel  an'  the  grandest  woman 
in  all  the  world,"  he  said. 

"Your  wife  and  I  are  highly  flattered,  Mr.  Anderson, 
for  you  were  looking  at  both  of  us,"  Peggy  laughingly 
replied. 

"Huh,  he  don't  mean  me,"  grunted  his  wife.  "An'  I 
wouldn't  want  him  to  class  me  with  you,  Peggy,  'cause 
they  ain't  nobody  in  the  world  in  yore  class." 

******* 

The  news  of  the  Wares'  coming  had  preceded  them, 
and  the  entire  community  for  miles  around  gathered 
at  the  dilapidated  old  graveyard  where  Peggy's  mother 
was  buried.  Peggy  was  kissed  and  caressed  until  a 
dear  old  soul  came  to  the  rescue. 

"Pore  child,"  she  said,  "she  won't  have  a  stitch  of 
clothes  on  ef  everybody  that  loves  her  gits  a  chance  to 
hug  her,  an'  they  won't  git  through  afore  sundown 
either." 

Of  Wilbur  Ware  they  stood  in  awe,  for  they  remem- 
bered the  austere  doctrine  he  had  preached  to  them, 
and  then,  after  his  wife's  death,  how  he  had  denied 
God  and  burned  his  books. 

New  earth  had  been  heaped  on  the  grave,  and  this 
was  covered  with  flowers  that  had  been  brought  by 
loving  hands.  The  stone  had  been  placed  at  the  head 
of  the  grave,  and  everyone  waited  breathless  for  the 


188  Peggy    Ware; 

first  word  from  their  former  pastor.  When  he  stood 
up  and  placed  one  hand  on  the  stone,  the  people 
scarcely  recognized  him. 

His  face  had  undergone  a  marvelous  change.  The 
corners  of  his  mouth  no  longer  drooped,  and  the  hard, 
burdened,  care-worn  look  had  left  his  face.  Peace  and 
calm  had  taken  the  place  of  devastating  doubt,  and  a 
radiance  of  love  emanated  from  him  that  all  could 
feel. 

"My  friends,"  he  said,  "it  is  meet  that  I  should  come 
back  to  this  spot  to  deliver  my  message  to  you  and  to 
the  world. 

"When  we  were  last  here  the  clouds  were  lowering, 
the  snow  falling,  and  the  winter  wind  shrieked  through 
the  trees,  and  my  soul  was  more  desolate  than  the 
winter,  for  I  felt  that  God  had  hid  His  face  from  me. 

"Today  it  is  summer.  The  sunshine  is  golden,  the 
flowers  are  abloom,'  the  wind  is  as  soft  as  evening 
zephyrs,  and  my  soul  rejoices  because  I  have  seen 
God  face  to  face  and  know  that  He  never  hid  His  face 
from  me,  but  that  I  hid  my  face  from  Him  and  refused 
to  see  Him. 

"When  we  buried  my  beloved  wife,  I  refused  to  open 
my  mouth,  and  you  were  all  surprised,  hurt,  and  indig- 
nant. I  didn't  know  just  why  I  did  so  then,  but  I 
understand  now.  I  had  nothing  to  say.  I  had  no 
message  of  faith  and  hope,  for  I  myself  had  none. 

"I  had  preached  a  dead  religion  to  you,  and  when 
the  great  crisis  came  into  my  life,  I  had  nothing  to 
sustain  me.  I  did  not  know  God.  My  conception  of 
Him  was  one  based  on  man-made  theology.  The  the- 
ology that  I  had  learned  makes  God  a  big,  all-powerful 
man,  angry,  revengeful,  who  must  be  propitiated  in 
order  to  win  His  favor. 


Back  to  the;  Old  Home:  189 

"According  to  this  teaching,  He  sits  on  a  throne  in 
His  heavens,  surrounded  by  a  walled  city,  whose 
streets  are  paved  with  gold,  ministered  to  by  bands  of 
angels  who  worship  Him  by  casting  their  golden 
crowns  at  His  feet,  while  He  looks  down  into  some 
cavernous  depth  where  millions  of  poor  souls  are 
doomed  to  spend  eternity,  crying:  'Woe  is  me!  Woe 
is  me !' 

"I  taught  you  that  man  is  a  poor,  creeping  worm  of 
the  dust,  born  to  be  eternally  damned  unless  he  can 
in  some  way  appease  the  anger  of  God.  The  Jews  did 
this  by  sacrificing  lambs  and  goats,  and  the  so-called 
heathen  people  all  over  the  world  did  the  same.  More 
than  seven  hundred  years  before  Christ  came,  God, 
speaking  through  His  prophet  Isaiah,  said :  'I  am  full 
of  the  burnt  offerings  of  rams,  and  the  fat  of  fed 
beasts ;  and  I  delight  not  in  the  blood  of  bullocks,  or  of 
lambs  or  of  he-goats.' 

"Almost  six  hundred  years  before  Jesus  came  to  this 
world,  Buddha,  a  great  prophet  in  India,  said  almost 
the  identical  words,  and  the  priests  tore  down  their 
altars  and  offered  no  more  burnt  sacrifices. 

"Moses  allowed  the  Jews  to  worship  God  through 
the  offering  of  their  flocks,  for  their  conception  of  God 
was  wholly  material,  and  they  thought  to  obtain  His 
favor  by  this  sort  of  sacrifice. 

"When  Christ  came  to  the  world,  He  proclaimed 
what  Isaiah  and  all  the  prophets  and  seers  had  done, 
that  God  is  spirit,  and  that  we  must  worship  Him  in 
spirit. 

"A  few  developed  souls  understood  Christ's  message, 
and  were  filled  with  the  Holy  Spirit.  He  taught  that 
we  are  not  creeping  worms  of  the  dust,  but  Sons  of 
God,  just  as  He  was  the  Son  of  God,  and  He  promised 


190  Peggy    Ware 

that  His  followers  should  do  greater  things  than  He 
had  ever  done. 

"For  a  time,  the  early  church  worshipped  a  spiritual 
God,  and  it  was  filled  with  a  power  and  zeal  that  have 
not  yet  expended  themselves. 

"After  a  time,  however,  the  politicians  and  theolo- 
gians got  hold  of  the  church  and  dethroned  the  God  of 
Isaiah  and.  Jesus,  and  enthroned  the  God  of  the  Jews 
and  the  heathen  world.  Men  of  science,  thinking  men, 
were  driven  away  from  the  church,  and  it  lost  its 
power. 

"Men  even  denied  Christ,  and  mocked  at  the  Bible, 
because  the  theologians  had  preached  a  materialistic 
God  and  given  the  Bible  a  materialistic  interpretation. 

"I  was  as  guilty  as  the  worst  of  them,  and  when  the 
light  failed  me.  I  wandered  in  a  Hell  of  darkness, 
without  a  ray  of  hope. 

"At  last  the  dawn  came,  and  I  awoke  as  from  a  hor- 
rible dream.  I  was  born  again.  I  was  a  new  creature. 
I  knew  my  divine  origin — that  I  was  a  son  of  God,  that 
His  spirit  dwelt  in  me,  that  He  changeth  not,  that  I 
have  always  been  His  son  from  before  the  foundation 
of  the  world,  and  that  I  will  always  be  His.  I  know 
now  that  there  is  nothing  in  all  God's  universe  to  be 
afraid  of,  except  myself,  this  animal  self,  and  that  when 
I  crucify  self,  henceforth  no  evil  thing  can  come  nigh 
me,  and  life  will  be  one  anthem  of  praise  forever  and 
forever !" 

He  had  finished  and  pronounced  the  benediction  be- 
fore his  audience  realized  that  he  was  done.  There 
arose  a  great  sigh  as  from  one  man,  and  each  one 
turned  to  his  neighbor,  but  no  one  spoke.  The  silence 
grew  painful,  but  no  one  was  willing  to  break  it. 

Wilbur  Ware  was  rooted  to  the  spot,  and  over  all 


Back  to  the  Old  Home  191 

there   seemed   to   brood   a   spirit   that   would   not   let 
them  go. 

Peggy  was  sitting  near  her  mother's  grave.  She 
arose  and  stood  beside  her  father.  He  wondered  what 
she  would  say. 

"We  used  to  sing  a  song  that  some  of  us  loved  in  the 
old  days,"  she  said,  "and  I  think  we  will  sing  it  again. 
You  can  join  me  in  the  chorus." 

Then  her  voice  rose,  quavering  and  uncertain  at  first, 
but  soon  clear,  vibrant,  soul-stirring.  "We  shall  meet 
beyond  the  river,  Where  the  surges  cease  to  roll, 
Where  in  all  the  glad  forever,  Sorrow  ne'er  shall  reach 
the  soul." 

A  thousand  voices  joined  in  the  chorus,  and  as  they 
sang,  they  passed  in  procession,  wringing  Wilbur 
Ware's  hand,  telling  him  that  his  message  had  brought 
new  hope  to  their  souls. 

******* 

Peggy  spent  a  few  days  gathering  up  the  fifty  boys 
and  girls  that  she  had  arranged  quarters  for  at  her 
school.  It  was  a  happy  lot  of  shy,  awkward,  rosy- 
cheeked  youngsters  that  gathered  at  the  little  station 
several  miles  away  from  their  mountain  homes.  Every- 
body came  to  bid  them  good-bye,  and  tears  mingled 
with  smiles  as  the  last  words  were  spoken. 

Not  one  of  them  had  ever  ridden  on  a  train,  and  few 
had  ever  seen  a  railroad. 

The  train  arrived  early  in  the  morning,  and  was  due 
in  Chattanooga  in  the  afternoon,  and  every  mile  of  the 
journey  held  a  new  sensation  for  the  enthusiastic 
children. 

None  of  them  were  under  fourteen  or  more  than  six- 
teen years  of  age,  all  bright-eyed  and  rosy-cheeked. 
They  represented  pure  Anglo-Saxon  blood,  and  Peggy 
felt  sure  that  they  had  in  them  the  elements  for  the 


192  Peggy     Ware 

development  of  the  highest  type  of  American,  Christian 
citizenship. 

Wilbur  Ware  and  Cliff  Anderson  had  gone  to  Chat- 
tanooga a  few  days  previously  to  be  there  when  Peggy 
and  Mrs.  Anderson  arrived  with  their  mountain 
charges. 

When  the  train  pulled  into  the  station,  there  was 
the  mayor  of  the  city  to  greet  them,  and  with  him 
Peggy's  father  and  Cliff  Anderson. 

Words  are  inadequate  to  describe  the  emotions  of 
the  little  group  that  marched  down  Market  street. 
The  boys  and  girls  were  filled  with  wonder.  Cliff  An- 
derson's stout  heart  beat  more  violently  than  it  had 
ever  done  on  the  battlefield.  Wilbur  Ware's  soul  was 
lifted  to  God  in  thankfulness. 

Peggy  was  overwhelmed  at  this  new  fruition  of  her 
vision,  and  in  her  heart  she  felt  herself  but  a  little  child  ; 
while  the  Mayor,  standing  before  her  with  bared  head, 
paid  reverence  to  the  greatest  woman  in  the  South. 

Molly  Anderson  was  already  mother  to  every  one 
of  the  fifty.  "These  kids  got  to  have  somethin'  to 
eat,"  she  said.  "I  recon'  they  can  git  enough  in  Chat- 
tanooga to  keep  'em  alive  'till  we  git  to  Bucks  Pocket, 
whare  I  kin  cook  'em  somethin'  fitten  to  eat." 

The  Mayor  had  called  a  mass  meeting  of  the  citizens 
for  that  night,  at  which  it  was  proposed  to  tell  the 
story  of  the  Peggy  Ware  School.  And  on  the  follow- 
ing morning  Peggy  and  her  party  would  take  the 
steamer  plying  the  Tennessee  between  Chattanooga 
and  Decatur,  Alabama. 

It  was  a  big,  curious  throng  that  filled  the  auditorium 
when  the  Mayor  called  the  meeting  to  order.  Peggy 
was  in  ignorance  about  the  program  or  the  part  she 
was  expected  to  play.    If  she  had  known,  it  is  probable 


Back  to  the;  Old  Home;  193 

that  she  would  have  shrunk  from  attending  the  meet- 
ing. 

In  a  few  well  chosen  words  the  Mayor  explained 
the  object  of  the  meeting,  and  told  the  story  of  what 
Peggy  had  already  accomplished.  He  drew  a  vivid 
picture  of  Bucks  Pocket,  the  isolation  and  lack  of  op- 
portunity of  the  mountain  boys  and  girls.  Nor  did  he 
fail  to  embellish  his  story  with  anecdotes  about  Cliff 
Anderson,  the  King  of  the  Wild  Catters,  adding  a  few 
words  about  his  wife,  Molly.  He  also  reminded  his 
audience  that  Wilbur  Ware,  the  father  of  Peggy,  was 
at  one  time  pastor  of  one  of  the  churches  at  Chatta- 
nooga, and  that  he  was  well  and  favorably  known  to 
many  of  the  old-timers. 

When  he  had  finished,  there  were  loud  calls  for 
Peggy  Ware.  The  Mayor  had  anticipated  this,  but 
Peggy  had  not. 

"I  cannot!  Oh,  I  cannot!"  she  said,  as  the  demand 
for  her  appearance  grew  more  insistent.  Taking  her 
by  the  arm,  the  Mayor  kindly,  but  firmly,  drew  her  to 
the  front  of  the  stage,  saying: 

"You  must  say  just  a  word  to  the  people  who  are 
clamoring  for  you."  Then  turning  to  the  audience,  he 
said:    "This  is  Peggy  Ware." 

For  a  moment  she  reeled  as  if  she  were  about  to 
fall,  and  her  audience  sat  breathless.  Pleadingly  she 
looked  into  their  kindly,  eager  faces,  and  the  fear  that 
clutched  her  heart  began  to  release  its  hold.  Timidly, 
with  her  voice  little  above  a  whisper,  she  uttered  a  few 
sentences,  and  the  people  scarcely  breathed,  so  eager 
were  they  to  catch  her  words,  and  so  afraid  that  she 
was  going  to  fail. 

Gradually  her  tones  grew  stronger,  and  as  she  told 
them  of  what  she  hoped  to  do,  she  seemed  to  grow  in 
stature,  her  words  came  tumbling  out  in  a  tumult  of 


194  Peggy    Ware 

eloquence,  and  the  audience  was  caught  in  the  sweep 
of  her  enthusiasm,  and  responded  as  one  man  to  her 
burning  message. 

She  sketched  her  plans  for  an  institution  that  would 
accommodate  hundreds  of  boys  and  girls,  where  they 
could  be  taught  everything  that  they  might  wish  to 
learn  to  make  them  useful  citizens. 

She  told  them  of  the  magnificent  tract  of  timber  land 
that  she  wanted  to  convert  into  things  of  commercial 
value,  giving  employment  to  the  pupils,  leaving  the 
land  clear  for  scientific  agriculture,  when  she  proposed 
to  grow  everything  consumed  by  the  school.  She  told 
briefly  of  her  plans  for  a  herd  of  high  class  Jersey 
cows,  a  poultry  industry,  a  department  for  the  teach- 
ing of  Domestic  Science. 

"And  finally,"  she  said,  "we  are  going  to  teach  our 
boys  and  girls  the  principles  of  Christianity  as  taught 
by  Jesus  Christ.  In  fact,  this  is  to  be  the  foundation 
and  basis  of  all  our  work.  We  shall  teach  them  that 
religion,  science  and  philosophy  are  in  perfect  accord, 
and  that  Jesus  is  the  model  for  all  the  ages,  and  that 
He  never  uttered  a  word  that  is  not  in  accord  with  the 
very  latest  scientific  discoveries." 

She  resumed  her  seat,  and  it  was  some  time  before 
the  Mayor  could  be  heard  above  the  applause.  When 
quiet  was  restored  he  said :  "I  want  you  to  see  the 
fifty  boys  and  girls  that  Miss  Ware  has  gathered  up 
in  our  own  Tennessee  mountains.  She  is  now  on  her 
way  to  Alabama  with  them." 

He  had  placed  them  back  of  the  stage,  hid  by  a  cur- 
tain, awaiting  the  psychological  moment,  for  the  Mayor 
knew  how  to  handle  his  audience.  He  ordered  the  cur- 
tain raised,  and  fifty  boys  and  girls,  almost  as  wild  as 
the  foxes  of  their  mountain  fastnesses,  looked  with 
wondering  eyes  on  the  audience  of  well-dressed  men 


Back  to  the  Old  Home  195 

and  women.  Some  of  them  were  barefooted.  All  of 
them  were  dressed  in  homespun,  but  they  had  splendid 
physiques  and  open  countenances. 

This  overt  proof  of  the  work  of  the  Peggy  Ware 
School  aroused  the  enthusiasm  of  the  audience  to  the 
highest  pitch,  and  men  from  all  parts  of  the  auditorium 
began  to  shout,  "What  do  you  want  us  to  do,  Mr. 
Mayor?" 

"We  are  coming  to  that  in  a  moment,"  he  said. 
"But  first  I  want  you  to  meet  Miss  Ware's  father." 
W'ilbur  Ware's  words  went  home  to  every  heart,  and 
his  hearers  proclaimed  him  a  father  worthy  of  such  a 
daughter  as  Peggy. 

Then  there  were  loud  calls  for  Cliff  Anderson,  and 
he  tried  to  hide,  but  was  dragged  from  his  place  by 
the  Mayor,  and  when  presented  to  the  audience  there 
were  howls  of  delight.  "I  ain't  no  speaker,"  he  said, 
"'case  I  never  had  no  book  larnin'.  I  fit  in  the  Con- 
federate army  when  I  wus  a  big  barefooted  boy  like 
one  of  these  fellers  here,  an'  when  I  got  back  home 
they  warnt  no  schools,  an'  I  had  to  work  fer  my 
mother  an'  the  other  kids.  I  might  a  bin  somebody 
ef  I  had  been  edycated,  but  as  it  is  I  ain't  nobody,  an' 
don't  know  nothin'. 

"I  ain't  got  many  more  years  in  this  world,  but  all 
the  rest  of  'em  an'  every  dollar  I  got  is  gwine  to  the 
Peggy  Ware  School  to  help  save  as  many  boys  an'  gals 
as  possible  frum  growin'  up  in  ignance  like  I  done." 

The  old  Wild  Catter  had  touched  the  soul  of  the 
audience,  and  when  the  Mayor  called  for  donations, 
there  was  a  deluge.  One  man  who  owned  the  finest 
herd  of  Jersey  cattle  in  Tennessee  gave  a  dozen  cows. 
Another  donated  a  full  line  of  agricultural  instruments. 
A  big  furniture  dealer  said  he  would  furnish  the  school 
building  and  dormitories  complete.     Then  there  were 


196  Peggy    Ware 

gifts  of  clothing,  gifts  of  money,  and  gifts,  gifts,  until 
Molly  Anderson  exclaimed :  "Ef  they  put  it  all  on 
the  steamboat,  she'll  sink  to  the  bottom  of  the  river, 
shore." 

But  they  did  get  it  all  on  the  steamer.  She  de- 
layed her  sailing  for  several  hours  in  order  that  noth- 
ing might  be  left  behind. 

At  last  they  were  off — the  boys  and  girls  leaning 
over  the  railing,  their  hearts  filled  with  a  happiness 
they  had  never  known  before,  and  near  them  stood 
Peggy,  waving  good-bye  to  the  friends  who  had  gath- 
ered to  see  them  on  their  voyage. 


Chapter  Fifteen 
THE  LONESOME  FOLKS 

DOCTOR  WESTON  had  heard  weird  stories 
about  a  peculiar  form  of  insanity,  quite  com- 
mon in  isolated  regions  of  the  mountains  of  the 
South.  Having  made  a  special  study  of  the  causes  of 
so-called  insanity,  he  was  always  ready  to  listen  to 
these  stories;  and  now,  having  little  else  to  engage  his 
attention  for  the  moment,  he  determined  to  do  some 
first-hand  investigating.  He  told  Ruth  of  these  re- 
ports, and  asked  her  if  she  knew  of  any  cases  of  insan- 
ity in  Bucks  Pocket  or  the  surrounding  country.  Glad 
to  aid  the  man  who  stood  for  all  the  wisdom  in  the 
world  to  her,  Ruth  said : 

"Yes,  I  know  of  several  cases.  One  of  them  is  not 
far  from  here,  an  old  lady  now,  who  has  been  queer 
ever  since  I  can  remember.  Her  name  is  Bowen,  and 
they  live  up  in  Dead  Man's  Gulch.  I  used  to  pass 
there  sometimes  hunting  the  cow,  and  she  was  con- 
fined in  a  cabin  built  of  logs,  about  half  the  size  of  an 
ordinary  room,  with  but  one  door,  and  not  a  single 
window.  It  had  no  chimney,  and,  of  course,  she  could 
not  have  fire  in  the  winter  time.  Her  folks  said  if 
they  allowed  her  to  have  fire  she  would  burn  herself 
to  death.  I  was  terribly  afraid  of  her,  and  would  creep 
up  close  to  the  cabin  and  listen ;  when  I  heard  a  noise 
on  the  inside  I  would  run  as  fast  as  I  could,  expect- 
ing that  she  would  break  down  the  door  and  pursue 
me. 

197 


198  PsggyWare 

"Once  I  peeped  through  the  keyhole  and  saw  her. 
She  sat  in  the  middle  of  the  room  all  huddled  up  on 
the  floor,  and  I  could  hear  her  mumbling  to  herself. 
I  listened,  fascinated,  frightened.  It  was  some  time 
before  I  could  understand  her.  Finally  I  made  out 
that  she  was  saying,  "I  am  so  lonesome,  so  lonesome," 
and  it  hurt  me  so  that  I  began  to  cry,  and  ran  away, 
and  I  have  never  been  back  since." 

Doctor  Weston  was  electrified  by  Ruth's  simple  re- 
cital. Here  was  a  condition  that  he  had  doubted 
existed  anywhere  in  this  twentieth  century  civiliza- 
tion. He  had  credited  most  of  the  stories  he  had  heard 
as  largely  imaginary,  but  he  could  not  doubt  Ruth. 
Her  recital  had  revealed  to  him  her  own  depth  of 
feeling  and  human  sympathy,  and  had  aroused  in  him 
a  desire  for  immediate  action. 

"Surely  the  State  provides  an  institution  where 
such  unfortunates  can  be  treated,"  he  said.  "If  so, 
why  do  they  confine  her  like  a  wild  beast?"  asked  Dr. 
Somerville. 

"There  is  a  place  called  the  Asylum  where  insane 
people  are  cared  for,  but  these  mountain  folks  are 
queer  that  way.  And  when  one  of  them  gets  this 
'lonesome  disease'  they  never  tell  the  proper  authori- 
ties, but  build  a  hut  like  the  one  I  told  you  about,  and 
shut  the  afflicted  one  up  in  it  until  death  comes  to  re- 
lieve her  of  her  loneliness." 

Doctor  Weston  could  hardly  wait  for  the  morrow 
to  visit  Dead  Man's  Gulch,  and  his  mind  was  busy 
in  the  meantime  turning  over  Ruth's  strange  story. 

Since  the  departure  of  the  Andersons,  Peggy  and  her 
father,  Ruth  and  Dr.  Weston  had  been  much  to- 
gether. He  had  undertaken  her  education,  and  follow- 
ing his  method  of  brain  building,  she  had  learned  more 
in  a  few  months  than  she  would  have  learned  in  the 


The  Lonesome;  Folks  199 

old  haphazard  way  in  as  many  years.  Her  use  of 
English  was  well  nigh  perfect,  and  her  progress  in 
other  lines  of  study  were  equally  pronounced.  He 
had  taught  her  to  call  him  John,  which  was  quite 
against  her  inclination,  for  she  stood  in  such  awe  of 
him.  To  her  he  was  her  God  man,  and  her  love  for 
him  was  akin  to  worship. 

As  the  days  passed,  Dr.  Weston's  love  for  this  fast 
developing  mountain  girl  grew  apace,  and  he  was  sat- 
isfied and  his  soul  was  at  peace.  He  was  content  to 
settle  down  in  this  haven  of  rest,  build  a  home  nest 
with  this  beautiful  girl  as  his  mate,  and  spend  his  life 
quietly  laboring  for  the  uplift  of  these  ignorant  people. 

His  vision  was  not  complete  without  Peggy,  she 
of  the  golden  hair  and  soulful  eyes.  Yes,  Peggy  was 
different.  What  a  wonderful  girl  she  was.  So  un- 
like anyone  he  had  ever  known  or  read  about.  In  her 
presence  he  always  experienced  a  thrill  that  startled 
him.  Her  voice  electrified  him,  her  touch  caused  him 
to  tremble  in  every  limb.  Yes,  he  understood.  It  was 
Peggy's  soul.  Everyone  felt  it.  She  cast  a  spell  over 
man  and  beast.  He  remembered  how  the  vicious  bull- 
dog surrendered  to  that  same  power  that  swayed  him. 
Peggy  was  not  made  for  love.  She  was  too  high  above 
ordinary  mortals  for  that.  No  man  in  the  world  was 
big  enough  for  Peggy's  love.  Her  love  could  never 
be  personal;  it  must  be  universal. 

Oh,  yes,  his  life  work  was  to  be  alongside  of  Peggy. 
The  thought  thrilled  him.  What  a  glorious  privilege 
to  be  a  co-worker  with  one  whose  shoe  latchets  he  felt 
unworthy  to  unloose.  He  heaved  a  great  sigh,  and 
Ruth,  ever  watchful  of  his  changing  moods,  said  so- 
licitously : 

"Why  do  you  sigh,  John,  dear?  What  are  you 
thinking  about?" 


200  Peggy    Ware 

"I  am  thinking  of  the  lonely  folks,  Ruth;  there  are 
so  many  of  them  in  this  world." 

******* 

Ruth  and  John  were  up  with  the  sun  and  ready  for 
an  early  start  to  Dead  Man's  Gulch.  It  was  quite  a 
distance,  and  they  planned  an  all  day  trip  of  explora- 
tion in  the  great  woods,  the  fathomless  gorges,  and 
among  the  lonesome  people  in  whom  Doctor  Weston 
was  so  deeply  interested. 

The  way  led  up  the  rocky  trail  that  formerly  led 
to  Anderson's  distillery.  It  was  the  month  of  July 
and  the  forests  were  clothed  in  their  densest  foliage, 
and  in  their  depths,  a  thousand  locusts  and  katydids 
outvied  each  other  in  raucous  song,  while  myriads  of 
insects  joined  in  the  chorus.  In  the  shady  nooks  the 
dew  drops  would  tremble  on  the  leaves  and  grass  until 
the  sun  reached  its  meridian.  On  the  railroad  ten 
miles  away,  the  morning  express  bound  for  Chatta- 
nooga sent  forth  its  shrill  whistle,  and  the  echoes  re- 
verberated and  pulsated  through  the  Pocket  and  high 
up  among  the  cliffs  and  peaks.  A  steamboat  on  the 
Tennessee  blew  a  coarse  blast,  and  it  sounded  so 
plainly  that  it  might  have  been  just  down  at  the  mouth 
of  Sauty  Creek. 

Ruth  explained  to  Doctor  Weston  that  this  stillness 
of  nature  which  caused  sounds  to  travel  such  long 
distances  foreboded  rain,  perhaps  a  thunder  storm. 
He  laughed  at  her  prophecy,  and  pointed  to  a  sky  of 
azure  blue,  without  a  fleck  of  cloud  on  the  horizon. 

As  they  ascended  Dead  Man's  Gulch,  the  sun  re- 
minded them  that  it  was  mid-summer,  and  the  air  was 
full  of  humidity.  Doctor  Weston  was  perspiring 
freely,  and  frequently  stopped  in  the  shade  of  a  tree, 
removed  his  hat,  and  mopped  his  brow,  to  Ruth's  great 
amusement.     Her  step  over  the  rough  boulders  was 


The;  Lonesome;  Folks  201 

as  firm  and  light  as  the  mountain  goat's,  and  she 
looked  as  cool  as  a  "cowcumber,"  in  the  mountain 
vernacular. 

Finally  they  reached  a  clearing,  and  rounding  a 
point  of  rocks,  they  saw  a  man  plowing  an  ox  in  a 
small  field  surrounded  by  a  rail  fence,  very  much  di- 
lapidated. At  some  places  it  was  almost  rotted  away, 
and  to  fill  these  gaps  so  that  cattle  and  hogs  running 
at  large  could  not  enter  and  devour  his  meager  crop, 
the  owner  had  hacked  down  bushes  and  allowed  them 
to  fall  so  that  these  broken  places  would  be  obstructed. 

It  was  a  rocky  field,  and  the  sound  of  the  crude  plow 
scraping  the  stones  and  rolling  them  about  could  be 
heard  quite  a  distance,  but  not  so  far  away  as  the 
man's  voice.  They  had  been  hearing  him  for  a  mile, 
perhaps,  and  Doctor  Weston  asked  Ruth  if  it  were 
some  sort  of  wild  religious  ceremony. 

"It  is  old  Man  Bowen  plowing  his  steer,"  said 
Ruth.     She  laughed  indulgently  at  his  ignorance. 

"Gee,"  "Haw,"  "Wo  come  here,  Buck,"  and  then  a 
fusilade  of  strange  oaths,  that  Weston  mistook  for  in- 
cantations to  some  heathen  God,  made  the  welkin  ring. 

They  waited  for  him  at  the  end  of  the  furrow,  and 
when  he  saw  Ruth  and  a  stranger,  and  knew  that  they 
had  heard  his  torrent  of  language,  he  was  greatly 
embarrassed. 

"I  recon'  you  all  heerd  me  a  talkin'  to  this  steer, 
an'  I  am  sorry  ef  I  said  somethin'  I  oughtn't  to  say 
afore  ladies,"  and  he  made  an  awkward  bow  in  Ruth's 
direction,  "but  he  wus  broke  this  way  by  old  Bill  Jones, 
an'  it's  the  only  sort  of  language  he  understands." 

"It's  all  right,  Mr.  Bowen,"  said  Ruth,  beaming 
good-naturedly  on  him.  "It's  the  usual  steer  language 
of  Bucks  Pocket,  and  I've  been  used  to  it  all  my  life. 
We  are  going  to  use  mules,  tractors,  trucks,  and  au- 


202  Peggy    Ware 

tomobiles  before  long,  and  then  we  will  banish  the 
steer  language  along  with  the  steers." 

"You  don't  say  so,"  replied  the  old  man,  in  open- 
mouthed  astonishment.  "Wall,  I  guess  I'll  fall  back 
fudder  in  the  mountains  when  all  them  things  come, 
case  I'm  too  old  to  larn  any  new  language,  an'  you 
have  to  cuss  a  steer  to  make  him  mind  you." 

Ruth  had  the  old  man  talking  now,  and  she  thought 
it  opportune  to  tell  him  the  object  of  their  visit.  She 
explained  to  him  who  Doctor  Weston  was,  his  inter- 
est in  people  afflicted  with  the  lonesome  disease,  and 
said  that  the  Doctor  wanted  to  see  his  wife  with  a 
view  of  studying  her  case  and  curing  her,  if  possible. 

"Ef  you  wan't  Cliff  Anderson's  gal,  I'd  a  mighty 
heap  sooner  take  my  gun  to  ye,  but  bein's  youse  his 
gal,  I'll  do  anything  you  say,  'case  I  know  its  fer  her 
good,"  and  he  jerked  his  thumb  in  the  general  direc- 
tion of  a  cabin  that  stood  in  one  corner  of  the  clear- 
ing. 

On  the  way  to  the  house,  Weston  plied  him  with 
numerous  questions,  as  he  was  eager  for  information 
about  these  queer  people. 

"She's  been  that  way  fer  twenty  years,  I  suppose," 
he  said,  "but  not  havin'  book  larnin'  I  can't  count 
time  very  well.  I  fust  noticed  it  when  our  boy  died. 
We  buried  him  right  up  there  on  that  knoll,"  and  he 
pointed  to  a  moss-grown  mound  where  stood  a  crude 
wooden  cross.  "I  used  to  make  a  crap  every  year  down 
in  the  river  bottoms,  an'  sometimes  I  would  be  gone 
a  month  at  a  time,  an'  she  wus  here  all  by  herself,  after 
he  died,"  and  again  he  indicated  the  lonely  mound  on 
the  hillside.  "She  didn't  have  no  one  to  talk  to  an' 
she'd  set  all  day  by  his  grave  jest  a  starin'  at  nuthin'. 
Every  time  I'd  come  home  I'd  ketch  her  settin'  thare 
jest  that  way.    One  time  I  come,  an'  she  didn't  know 


The;  Lonesome;  Folks  203 

me,  an'  she  commenced  to  scream  when  she  seed  me, 
callin'  me  a  devil  an'  sayin'  I  killed  her  boy,  an'  wus 
goin'  to  dig  him  up  an'  take  him  away.  I  called  her 
by  name,  I  talked  to  her,  I  tried  to  tell  her  who  I  wus, 
but  it  warn't  no  use.  Then  I  tried  to  take  her  to  the 
house,  but  she  fit  me  like  a  wild  cat,  an'  cussed  some- 
thin'  awful.  I  never  heerd  her  cuss  before  an'  it  made 
my  hair  stand  straight  up,  'case  she  had  alius  been  good 
sense  she  got  religion  at  one  o'  them  camp  meetin's,  an' 
she  alius  talked  to  me  an'  the  kid  about  God,  an'  she 
made  that  cross  an'  put  it  at  the  head  of  his  grave." 

The  old  man's  wrinkled,  weather  beaten  face  was 
now  working  convulsively,  revealing  a  depth  of  feel- 
ing beneath  his  rough  exterior. 

"Wall,  they  warn't  nuthin'  to  do  but  shet  her  up 
somers  'case  she  wus  likely  to  kill  me  an'  herself  too. 
I  had  jest  built  a  new  crib  to  put  my  corn  in,  an'  it 
wus  the  only  place  I  could  put  her  to  be  safe,  'case 
thare  warn't  no  winders  an'  no  fire  place,  an'  a  good 
stout  door  shetter  so  I  could  fasten  her  up  when  I 
had  to  go  away  to  my  work.  I  put  her  in  thare,  an' 
b'lieve  me  it  war  a  man's  job.  I  didn't  have  no  shirt 
on,  an'  pow'ful  little  skin  on  my  face  when  I  got  her 
in.  An'  fer  a  week,  day  an'  night,  she  screamed  and 
cussed  an'  I  never  slept  a  wink.  I  most  went  crazy, 
too.  I  kin  hear  her  yet  sometimes  when  the  wind 
roars  in  the  mountains  of  winter  nights,"  and  the  old 
man  shuddered.  "I  poked  things  in  the  door  fer  her 
to  eat,  an'  she  wouldn't  tech  a  bite,  but  broke  the 
dishes  agin  the  wall  until  they  warn't  nothin'  left  but 
some  tin  cups  an'  plates. 

"By  an'  by  she  begin  to  moan  like,  an'  it  grew 
weaker  an'  weaker  ontil  it  were  only  a  whisper.  Then 
one  mornin'  I  went  to  carry  her  breakfast,  an'  she  was 
sittin'  on  the  floor  sayin':     "I'm  lonesome.     I'm  lone- 


204  Peggy    Ware 

some,"  an'  ef  she's  ever  spoke  another  word  in  all 
these  twenty  years,  I  ain't  heerd  it." 

They  entered  the  cabin,  and  the  bareness  of  the 
walls,  the  paucity  of  the  furnishing,  the  absence  of 
everything  a  civilized  woman's  heart  craves  chilled 
Weston's  heart.  To  his  inquiry,  Bowen  said :  "No, 
we  never  had  a  book.  She  use  to  want  a  Bible,  but 
I  wouldn't  git  one  'case  she  couldn't  read.  An'  when 
our  boy  died,  she  said:  'Oh,  God,  ef  I  jest  had  a  Bible 
to  bury  with  him !'  and  then  I  wished  I  had  bought 
her  one,  but  it  wus  too  late. 

"She  never  wus  out  o'  Bucks  Pocket  but  once  in 
her  life,  that  wus  when  she  wus  a  girl  jest  afore  we 
married.  She  went  to  a  pertracted  meetin'  out  on  the 
mountain  an'  perfessed  religion,  but  after  we  married, 
she  never  left  Dead  Man's  Gulch.  She  never  seed  in- 
side^ mother  meetin'  house,  an'  never  knowed  what  a 
railroad  or  steamboat  looked  like.  I  never  thought 
nuthin'  much  about  it  'til  she  got  this  disease,  an'  I 
been  studyin'  a  lot  to  figger  out  what  it  is. 

"When  she  got  to  sayin'  'I'm  lonesome,'  I  thought 
it  wus  fer  the  boy,  an'  I  recon'  it  wus  somewhat  that, 
but  I  guess  it  were  worser'n  that.  I  know  more'n 
her  in  jest  the  same  fix,  an'  some  of  'em  have  a  whole 
passel  of  chillun  livin',  and  they  git  so  lonesome  they 
have  to  be  locked  up.  Why,  stranger,  half  these 
women  never  went  twenty  miles  away  frum  home  in 
their  lives.  They  ain't  got  no  book  larnin',  they  ain't 
got  no  music,  no  stoves  to  cook  on,  no  sewin'  ma- 
chines, not  even  a  washboard  to  rub  their  close  on. 
The  men  folks  git  out  an'  work,  hunt  an'  fish,  fill  up 
on  wild-cat  licker,  an'  fight  sometimes,  an'  it  keeps  'em 
from  dyin'  of  lonesomeness.  Then  we  go  to  the  'lection 
once  in  a  while  an'  to  Court,  an'  we  take  our  cotton 
to  town  an'  sell  it  and  hear  lots  of  news  about  what's 


The  Lonesome  Folks  205 

gwine  on  in  the  world.  But  the  women  jest  stay  home 
an'  cook,  an'  wash,  an'  iron,  an'  make  close,  an'  hoe 
in  the  field  and  tend  to  the  babies,  an'  they  come  along 
jest  like  stair  steps,  an'  time  ones  out  of  her  arms, 
toddlin'  aroun',  another  one  done  come  ready  to  take 
its  place,  an'  it's  no  wonder  they  git  lonesome,  an'  their 
pore  hearts  jest  cry  out  'til  they  can't  stan'  it  no 
longer  an'  either  die  or  git  like  she  is,"  again  indicat- 
ing his  wife  by  a  backward  nod  of  the  head. 

"I  wonder  sometimes  ef  they  ain't  nuthin'  Uncle 
Sam  or  somebody  kin  do  about  it,"  and  the  old  man 
looked  pathetically  toward  the  corn  crib  where  his 
wife  had  been  confined  for  two  decades.  "I  wish  she'd 
a  been  sleepin'  out  thare  by  him  all  these  years  instead 
o'  bein'  so  lonesome,"  and  Ruth  caught  the  gleam  of 
tears  in  his  hard  eyes. 

At  Doctor  Weston's  suggestion,  they  now  visited 
the  pathetic  figure  in  the  windowless  cabin.  To  the 
presence  of  the  visitors  she  paid  no  heed.  The  Doctor 
talked  to  her,  asked  her  questions,  but  there  was 
never  an  answer,  unless  it  was  the  monotonous,  "I  am 
so  lonesome." 

Ruth  was  weeping,  and  Weston  had  to  fight  back 
his  emotions.  He  asked  the  old  man  if  he  would  per- 
mit his  wife  to  be  carried  to  Cliff  Anderson's  home  and 
be  treated  by  him. 

"Kin  you  kore  her,  stranger;  kin  you  kore  her?" 
Bowen  asked,  trembling  with  excitement. 

"Yes,  Mr.  Bowen,  with  God's  help  I  can  cure  her," 
and  John  Weston  looked  the  inspired  physician. 

"Ef  you  will,  stranger,  I'll  b'lieve  in  God  all  the  rest 
of  my  life,"  and  the  old  man  reverently  bowed  his 
head. 

It  was  arranged  that  a  wagon  would  be  sent  for  her 
the  following  day,  and  Weston  told   Kowen  that  he 


206  Peggy    Ware 

wanted  him  to  come  down  and  work  at  the  saw  mill 
where  he  could  be  near  his  wife  when  needed. 


Ruth  and  John  had  not  proceeded  far  on  the  return 
journey,  when  they  were  startled  by  a  vivid  flash  of 
lightning,  followed  by  a  crash  of  thunder.  Looking 
to  the  South,  they  saw  a  cloud  rolling  up  like  the 
boiling  of  a  huge  cauldron.  Before  it  they  saw  droves 
of  birds,  racing  to  escape  the  coming  storm,  while  an 
eagle  could  be  seen  mounting  to  dizzy  heights,  where 
he  could  bask  in  the  sunshine,  defying  the  raging  ele- 
ments below. 

"We  must  hurry,"  said  Ruth,  "and  find  a  place  of 
shelter,  for  the  cloud  is  traveling  like  a  race  horse." 
She  led  the  way,  speeding  like  a  fawn,  John  following 
hard  behind.  Just  as  the  first  big  rain  drops  began 
to  patter  down,  they  reached  an  overhanging  shelving 
rock  beneath  one  of  the  great  rock  walls  overlooking 
the  Pocket.  They  were  hardly  seated  until  the  storm 
burst  in  all  its  fury.  The  sun  was  obscured,  and  but 
for  the  lightning,  it  was  almost  as  dark  as  night. 
Every  moment,  seemingly,  the  cloud  belched  forth 
great  sheets  of  flame,  and  the  valley  below  for  an  in- 
stant was  filled  with  liquid  fire,  and  then  the  thunder 
crashed,  peal  following  peal,  as  if  all  heaven's  ar- 
tillery had  been  concentrated  in  this  one  spot. 

The  rain  fell  in  torrents,  and  in  a  little  while  there 
were  dozens  of  miniature  cataracts,  where  the  water 
poured  over  the  sides  of  the  rock  wall.  Ruth's  heart 
beat  violently  as  John  placed  one  arm  about  her,  and 
held  her  close,  so  close  that  he  could  feel  its  wild 
beating." 

For  a  long  time  no  word  was  spoken,  as  each  hesi- 
tated to  break  the  silence  of  the  awe-inspiring  scene. 
It  was  the  woman  who  first  gave  utterance  to  her 


The  Lonesome;  Folks  207 

thoughts.     "Why  do  we  love  each  other?"  she  asked, 
looking  shyly  into  the  man's  strong,  intense  face. 

"Ah,  my  little  sweetheart,  you  have  asked  a  ques- 
tion that  the  poets,  sages,  and  philosophers  of  all  the 
ages  have  never  been  able  to  answer,"  replied  her 
lover.  "Why  do  the  birds  mate ;  why  does  the  flower 
seek  its  lover;  why  does  an  atom  of  matter  repel  one 
atom  that  seeks  it,  and  embraces  with  almost  human 
intelligence  another  atom,  exactly  like  the  first  so  far 
as  is  revealed  by  the  most  powerful  microscope?  It  is 
the  law  of  attraction,  and  is  one  of  God's  great  mys- 
teries." 

"Why  did  you  come  to  Bucks  Pocket?"  she  asked. 
"Why  did  Peggy  Ware  come?  Why  do  things  hap- 
pen in  this  world,  anyway?" 

"You  are  thinking,  Ruth,  and  I  am  afraid  you  are 
thinking  too  deeply  for  me.  I  am  very  proud  of  you, 
dear.  You  are  a  wonderful  girl,  and  I  love  you  very, 
very  much." 

"It's  good  to  hear  you  say  that,  John,  but  it  doesn't 
answer  my  question.  You  know  I  have  been  brought 
up  in  ignorance  just  like  thousands  of  girls  in  the 
mountains,  and  now  I  am  hungry  to  know.  I  want 
to  know  where  I  came  from.  Surely  you  can  tell  me 
for  you  are  so  wise.  You  tell  me  I  have  a  soul.  I 
have  never  seen  it,  but  I  do  feel  something  wonderful 
sometimes.  How  long  has  my  soul  lived?  Is  it  older 
than  my  body?  You  say  God  is  in  my  soul.  Please 
tell  me  about  these  things,"  and  the  earnest,  eager 
eyes,  the  tense  face  told  him  that  here  was  no  idle 
questioner. 

He  was  very  solemn  now.  Here  was  an  earnest 
soul  groping  for  the  light,  and  he  had  been  sent  as  her 
teacher,  and  he  realized  that  his  was  not  only  a  sacred 
duty,  but  the  greatest  privilege  that  can  come  to  any- 


208  Peggy    Ware 

one.  In  simple  language,  that  even  a  little  child  might 
understand,  he  said : 

"Ruth,  it  fills  me  with  great  joy  to  find  that  you 
are  already  on  the  way  to  what  Jesus  called  'life  and 
life  more  abundant.'  He  was  the  great  master,  but  so 
few  have  grasped  the  spiritual  meaning  of  his  teach- 
ings that  the  great  majority  of  mankind  are  still  grop- 
ing in  the  dark,  but  the  light  is  breaking  as  never 
before  on  this  planet. 

"Your  soul  has  always  lived,  and  for  some  reason  it 
came  to  inhabit  your  body  at  birth.  I  do  not  know 
why,  but  somewhere  in  the  great  mysterious  ether 
that  fills  all  the  universe  is  a  complete  record  of  all 
the  past  experiences  of  your  soul,  and  if  we  could  read 
this  record,  we  would  understand  why  we  are  here 
together  at  this  moment,  inhabiting  these  bodies. 
Some  day  we  shall  be  able  to  read  this  record,  for  it 
is  the  photographic  pJate  on  which  is  recorded  or  pho- 
tographed every  thought,  and  every  act  that  has  ever 
been  from  the  time  when  the  morning  stars  first  sang 
together. 

"Our  thoughts  are  the  most  real  things  about  us, 
for  they  never  die.  They  live  forever,  stamped  on 
this  universal  ether,  and  they  are  forces  for  either  good 
or  ill.  Every  thought  I  think  will  live  throughout  the 
ages  and  will  affect  me,  and  all  other  souls  to  a  cer- 
tain degree.  This  is  why  the  Masters  have  told  us 
that  we  must  give  an  account  for  every  thought  we 
think.  Our  thoughts  are  the  language  of  the  soul,  and 
this  is  why  thoughts  are  so  much  more  important  than 
the  words  of  our  lips.  It  is  through  our  thoughts  that 
we  talk  to  God.  He  sees  every  thought  recorded  on 
the  universal  ether,  and  can  read  the  record,  and  we  in 
turn  touch  God,  know  God,  see  God,  through  this 
medium  of  the  soul. 


The  Lonesome  Folks  209 

"Even  the  fluttering  of  the  sparrow  with  broken 
wing  is  recorded  on  this  mysterious  ether,  to  remain 
there  throughout  the  ages,  and  our  Father  sees  it. 
Jesus  so  beautifully  expressed  this  truth  when  he  said : 
'Are  not  two  sparrows  sold  for  a  farthing?  And  one 
of  them  shall  not  fall  on  the  ground  without  your 
Father.'  This  is  the  recording  place  of  all  that  has 
gone  before. 

"Ages  have  come  and  gone,  civilizations  have  risen 
and  perished,  races  have  flourished  and  vanished, 
cities  of  might  and  power  have  stood  proudly  for  a  time 
and  then  sunk  into  utter  oblivion ;  continents  have 
been  formed,  peopled  and  then  lost  beneath  great  tidal 
waves  and  not  one  soul  left  to  tell  the  story.  Worlds 
have  been  born  out  of  the  mind  of  God,  whirled  into 
space  for  untold  aeons,  inhabited  by  intelligent  beings, 
some  far  below  us,  others  so  high  above  us  that  we 
would  be  like  beetles  by  comparison,  and  then  disin- 
tegrated to  become  fire  mist,  star  dust,  for  other  aeons, 
and  again  to  come  out  of  the  formless  void  a  world, 
beautiful,  vibrant,  pulsing  with  life,  the  home  of  an- 
other race  of  the  sons  of  God. 

"It  is  unthinkable  that  no  record  has  been  kept  of 
this  stupendous  history,  and  I  have  no  doubt  in  my 
own  mind,  regardless  of  what  others  may  think,  that 
this  history  is  all  written  on  the  Universal  ether,  and 
that  sometime,  somewhere,  in  God's  glorious  aeons  of 
the  future,  we  shall  be  able  to  read  the  mighty  scroll." 

"What  a  fascinating  thought,"  exclaimed  the  en- 
raptured Ruth.  "Won't  it  be  glorious  to  read  on  and 
on  and  never  finish,  for  all  eternity  will  not  be  long 
enough  to  read  it  all,  for  it  will  be  just  as  far  back  to 
the  beginning  as  it  is  to  the  end." 

The  storm  was  over,  the  sun  shone  in  renewed 
splendor,  and  the  lovers  emerged  from  their  shelter 


210  Peggy    Ware 

beneath  the  cliff,  and  turned  homeward.  A  glorious 
rainbow  was  in  the  sky,  both  ends  resting  upon  the 
earth,  one  just  a  little  way  down  the  trail.  "I  am  go- 
ing to  the  end  of  the  rainbow,"  said  Ruth,  "to  find  a 
pot  of  gold,"  and  away  she  sped,  leaving  John  far  be- 
hind. It  was  resting  on  a  clump  of  honeysuckle 
bushes,  as  Ruth  thought,  and  she  was  sure  she  could 
stand  in  its  gorgeous  coloring  when  she  reached  the 
spot.  Breathless,  she  stopped  where  the  end  of  the 
rainbow  rested,  and  it  was  a  disappointed  face  that 
greeted  John  when  he  came  up  with  her. 

"See,  John!"  she  exclaimed,  "It  moved  just  as  fast 
as  I  ran,  and  now  it  is  just  as  far  away  as  when  I 
started."  He  made  no  reply,  but  she  observed  a  look 
of  sadness  creep  into  his  face.  "Why  are  you  so  sad, 
dear?"  she  asked.  "You  seemed  so  happy  just  a  lit- 
tle while  ago." 

"I  was  thinking,  Ruth,  that  the  end  of  the  rainbow 
is  like  our  dreams  of  happiness,  of  perfection.  This 
enchanted  land  is  always  just  out  yonder,  and  we  run 
eagerly  to  reach  it,  thinking  to  sit  down  and  say,  'Soul, 
take  thine  ease,'  but  when  we  get  there,  like  the  rain- 
bow's end,  it  is  just  as  far  away  as  it  was  before.  We 
rest  awhile,  and  start  again,  sure  this  time  we  can  over- 
take it.  We  run  faster  than  ever,  and  at  the  end  make 
one  tremendous  leap,  sure  that  we  are  in  time,  but,  lo ! 
our  fairy  land  has  vanished.  We  look  ahead  with 
tears  of  disappointment  dimming  our  eyes,  and  mock- 
ingly it  beckons  us  on.  I  sometimes  think  it  will  be 
so  through  the  countless  ages  of  eternity." 

"We  can  be  happy  even  if  we  don't  find  the  end  of 
the  rainbow,"  said  Ruth,  trying  to  dispel  his  serious 
mien.  "Maybe  sometime  when  we  see  God,  it  will  be 
the  end  of  the  rainbow,  don't  you  think  so,  John?" 

"God  knows,  Ruth ;  there  are  some  things  too  deep 


The  Lonesome;  Folks  211 

for  me,  and  you  persist  in  getting  me  beyond  my 
depth.  Now,  one  more  kiss,  and  make  me  forget  every- 
thing in  the  world  but  you." 

Lovingly  he  folded  her  in  his  arms,  and  looking  into 
her  eyes,  where  he  read  the  depth  of  a  woman's  love, 
he  said:  "Ruth,  this  is  the  end  of  the  rainbow  for 
me." 


Chapter  Sixteen 

BEHOLD  WHAT  A  FLAME  A  LITTLE 
SPARK  KINDLETH 

PEGGY  came  into  her  shrine  of  silence  as  Simon 
was  arranging  a  bouquet  of  roses  on  her  table, 
still  fresh  with  the  morning  dew  on  them. 
"  'Scuse  me  fer  not  bein'  through,"  he  apologized, 
"but  I  wus  jes'  foolin'  along  on  purpose,  I  recon,'  be- 
case  I  feel  so  nigh  de  Lawd  heah,  I  likes  to  stay  as  long 
as  I  kin. 

"Den  I  wus  thinkin'  ob  all  dat  evah  happen  to  me 
sence  I  kin  fust  'membah,  an'  it  seemed  so  wonderful 
dis  mawnin'.  I  guess  I  mus'  be  about  eighty-five  yeahs 
old  now,  'cordin'  to  de  way  you  an'  Capn'  Massa  Lee 
figgers,  an'  I  lib  to  see  de  grandes'  school  in  de  worl'. 
an'  you  doin'  what  nobody  evah  thought  of  doin' 
befo'." 

Without  stopping  for  Peggy  to  reply,  the  old  darkv 
continued :  "Talk  about  havin'  faith  lack  a  grain  ob 
mustahd  seed  an'  pullin'  a  sycamore  tree  up  by  de 
roots  an'  den  plantin'  it  in  de  sea,  dat  ain't  nuthin'  to 
what  youse  done  heah  in  Bucks  Pocket.  Youse  done 
moah  dan  pullin'  up  all  de  trees  in  Bucks  Pocket,  an' 
dammin'  up  de  Tennessee  riveh.  You  done  made  dis 
place  ovah,  an'  it's  a  garden  ob  Eden  to  whut  it  wus 
when  we  fust  come  heah." 

"Don't  say  that  I  did  it,  Simon.  You  have  been  just 
as  important  a  factor  as  I  have.    You  will  never  know 

212 


Behold  What  a  Flame;  a  Little  Spark  Kindllth    213 

how  you  have  inspired  me  when  there  was  no  other 
earthly  comfort." 

"I'se  pow'ful  glad  ef  I  has  been  any  help  to  youah," 
the  old  man  said,  "  'case  I  ain't  gwine  to  be  heah  much 
longah,  an'  when  I  goes  ovah  yondah,  it'll  be  pow'ful 
sweet  to  tell  young  Missus  whut  you  says." 

"I  hope  it  will  be  many,  many  years  before  you  will 
deliver  the  message,  Simon.  I  shall  need  you  for  a 
long  time  yet,"  and  the  beautiful  face  of  Peggy  glowed 
with  tenderness  for  the  venerable  old  negro.  Only 
people  of  the  South  can  sufficiently  appreciate  this  sen- 
timent for  the  faithful  members  of  the  colored  race. 
"Besides  we  don't  have  sickness  any  more  in  Bucks 
Pocket,  and  I  think  we  won't  have  any  more  old  peo- 
ple after  a  while.  When  these  boys  and  girls  grow  up, 
they  will  understand  scientific,  Christian  living,  and 
when  they  are  a  hundred,  they  will  possess  all  their 
faculties,  and  be  just  as  vigorous  and  even  more  useful 
than  when  they  were  at  forty  or  fifty." 

"When  dat  time  comes,"  Simon  declared  eagerly, 
"how  much  will  it  lack  ob  bein'  Heabin  right  heah  in 
Bucks  Pocket?" 

"That's  a  very  wise  suggestion,  Simon.  You  know 
Jesus  said :  'The  Kingdom  of  God  is  within  you,'  and 
He  further  said  that  when  we  found  this  kingdom,  all 
things  that  we  needed  should  be  added  unto  us." 

"An'  you  believes  dat  too,  an'  dat's  why  yore  school 
has  growed  frum  nuthin'  to  de  bigges'  thing  in  Ala- 
bama. An'  when  you  needs  money,  all  you  has  to 
do  is  to  come  in  heah  an'  ax  God  an'  He  sen's  it  to 
you." 

"That  is  true,  Simon.  I  simply  take  Jesus  at  his 
word,  and  as  long  as  we  do  this,  nothing  doubting, 
there  is  no  limitation  to  what  we  can  do." 

"You  means  by  dat  you  kin  des  go  on  buildin'  an' 


214  Peggy    Ware 

buildin'  ontil  de  whole  worl'  will  be  full  ob  de  same 
sort  ob  Heaben  we  got  heah  in  Bucks  Pocket?"  the 
old  fellow  asked,  looking  earnestly  at  Peggy. 

"Well,  yes,  Simon,  that's  just  what  it  means.  If 
we  would  accept  Christ's  spiritual  teachings  and  live 
them,  it  would  solve  all  the  world's  problems,  indus- 
trial, social,  and  otherwise.  We  would  have  no  more 
wars,  famines,  strikes,  or  crime.  Sin  and  sickness 
would  be  banished  from  the  earth,  and  with  these 
evils  gone,  there  would  be  no  more  poverty." 

"An'  is  dat  what  Jesus  preached  when  He  was  heah 
on  dis  earth?"  asked  Simon,  trembling  with  excite- 
ment. 

"This  was  His  teaching,  Simon,  and  He  promised 
its  fulfillment." 

"Den  why  don't  all  de  preachers  talk  lak  He  did?" 

"I  suppose  it  is  because  of  a  lack  of  faith,  Simon.  I 
see  no  other  reason." 

"Den  dey  need  a  mustahd  plastah  'plied  to  dem," 
he  suggested,  as  he  quietly  slipped  out  of  the  Shrine 
of  Silence,  hat  in  hand. 

When  Peggy  returned  from  her  vacation  bringing 
the  fifty  boys  and  girls  from  the  Tennessee  mountains, 
with  a  cargo  of  gifts  from  the  generous  people  of 
Chattanooga,  it  marked  a  mighty  step  forward  in  the 
life  of  the  Peggy  Ware  School.  This  meant  an  addi- 
tional financial  burden,  for  they  must  all  be  clothed 
and  fed  as  well  as  provided  with  books. 

Peggy's  plans  looked  to  making  the  school  as  nearly 
self-supporting  as  possible,  and  to  this  end,  the  boys 
and  girls,  who  were  all  able-bodied,  willing  workers, 
were  set  to  certain  tasks  for  a  period  of  four  hours  each 
day.  This  left  ample  time  for  study  and  recreation, 
and  made  the  pupils  strong,  vigorous,  and  self-reliant. 
Peggy  believed  in  the  dignity  of  labor. 


Behold  What  a  Flame  a  Little  Spark  Kindleth    215 

"Boys  and  girls,  I  want  you  to  work  and  love  your 
work,"  she  told  her  school.  "It  is  good  for  your  bodies, 
your  minds,  and  your  souls.  I  believe  that  every  man 
and  woman,  no  matter  what  their  wealth  or  calling, 
should  work  with  their  hands  out  in  God's  air  and 
sunshine  for  a  little  while  each  day,  if  it  is  only  to 
tend  a  little  garden,  a  rose  bush,  or  take  care  of  a  small 
flock  of  chickens,  or  any  one  of  the  thousand  useful, 
beautiful  things  that  one  can  do.  The  nearer  we  get 
to  nature,  the  closer  we  come  to  God." 

She  always  practiced  what  she  preached,  and  with 
her  own  hands  set  the  example  for  the  women  of 
Bucks  Pocket.  Her  delight  was  a  tiny  rose  garden, 
and  every  morning  before  the  sun  was  up,  Peggy  could 
be  found  caring  for  her  favorite  flower  with  loving 
hands. 

Before  she  came  to  Bucks  Pocket,  there  was  not  a 
rose  to  be  seen  except  those  that  grew  wild  in  the 
woods ;  now  in  almost  every  yard  there  was  an  imita- 
tion of  Peggy's  rose  garden. 

The  boys  were  under  Anderson's  surpervision,  and 
aided  in  clearing  and  cultivating  the  land,  as  well  as 
operating  the  saw  mill,  building  houses  and  other  use- 
ful work. 

The  girls  made  all  the  garments  for  the  school.  The 
old-fashioned  loom  and  spinning  wheel  had  not  been 
banished  from  Bucks  Pocket,  and  many  of  the  women 
were  experts  in  the  making  of  cloth,  counterpanes,  and 
coverlets.  From  this  cloth  the  girls  fashioned  the  uni- 
forms for  the  pupils.  The  cloth  was  dyed  with  native 
roots,  barks,  and  walnut  hulls,  with  certain  ingredients 
purchased  from  town,  and  the  beauty  and  richness  of 
coloring  was  a  surprise  to  all  who  visited  the  Peggy 
Ware  School. 

Soon  after  Peggy's  return  from  her  old  home  in  the 


216  Peggy    Ware 

Cumberland  mountains,  Doctor  Weston  told  her  of  his 
discovery  of  the  "lonesome  people." 

"I  am  treating  an  old  lady  by  the  name  of  Bowen," 
he  said.  "She  had  been  confined  in  a  cabin  all  alone 
for  twenty  years,  and  the  only  word  she  uttered  when 
I  first  discovered  her  was  Tm  lonesome.' 

"There  are  many  more  like  her  in  these  isolated  sec- 
tions, and  I  am  anxious  to  build  a  sanatorium  where 
they  can  be  properly  cared  for  and  treated.  They  can 
all  be  cured,  and  I  understand  how  to  do  it,  and  feel 
that  it  is  a  part  of  my  mission  to  do  this  work. 

"So  I  have  been  waiting  for  you  to  return  to  lay 
the  matter  before  you.  Of  course,  no  one  can  under- 
take anything  without  you  give  your  consent,  because 
we  all  look  to  you  for  everything." 

"I  am  in  full  accord  with  you,  Doctor  Weston,  and  I 
am  sorry  you  have  delayed  beginning  the  work.  You 
should  not  have  waited  on  me.  You,  my  father,  and 
Mr.  Anderson  have  the  same  right  to  go  ahead  with 
any  work  you  approve  as  I  have.  It  would  be  impos- 
sible for  me  to  disagree  with  you  about  anything  in 
connection  with  this  work." 

"I  recon  it  wus  mostly  my  fault,  Miss  Peggy,"  said 
Anderson.  "I  ain't  got  the  faith  that  you  got,  so  I 
didn't  see  whare  all  the  money's  comin'  frum.  I  been 
talkin'  to  yore  dad  about  buildin'  you  all  a  house, 
becase  you  livin'  in  a  cabin,  an'  you  sleepin'  in  the 
attic  on  a  straw  tick  on  a  Georgia  bed,  an'  I  stood  it  as 
long  as  I'm  gwine  to.  You  don't  never  think  about 
yourself,  an'  me  an'  yore  dad  has  decided  to  think  for 
you  jest  a  lettle." 

"Tell  me  about  the  straw  tick  and  'Georgia'  bed," 
said  Weston.     "I  want  to  know  about  it." 

"They  ain't  much  to  tell,"  Anderson  continued.  "Ef 
you   never  seen  one,   you   couldn't  understand   it.     I 


Behold  What  a  Flame;  a  Little  Spark  Kindleth    217 

guess  you  seed  a  straw  bed  when  they  hauled  old  lady 
Bowen  down  frum  Dead  Man's  Gulch,  becase  I  heerd 
Molly  say  they  hauled  her  on  a  straw  tick." 

"My  God,  Peggy,  is  it  true  that  that  you  are  suffer- 
ing such  privations?"  exclaimed  Doctor  Weston.  "I 
had  never  thought  of  you  in  this  way.  You  are  always 
so  bright,  so  joyous,  so  exquisite  in  your  simple  dress, 
that  I  associated  you  with  a  soft,  dainty  bed,  pillows 
of  down,  carpeted  floor,  and  beautiful  furniture. 

"I  agree  with  Mr.  Anderson.  We  will  defer  the 
erection  of  our  sanatorium  until  you  have  been  pro- 
vided a  suitable  home  and  the  comforts  that  you  so 
richly  deserve." 

"You  and  Mr.  Anderson  have  worked  yourselves  into 
quite  a  sentimental  state  over  'Poor  Peggy,'  and  I 
would  be  in  tears  over  her  sad  plight,  if  I  did  not  know 
the  young  lady  much  better  than  either  of  you  do. 
You  are  judging  her  from  the  outside,  gentlemen,  while 
I  know  the  inside. 

"There  are  two  Peggy  Wares,  and  you  are  thinking 
about  the  one  that  you  can  see.  The  Peggy  you  are 
talking  about  loves  downy  beds  of  ease,  beautiful  paint- 
ings, soft  luxury,  but  she  is  not  the  real  Peggy.  The 
Peggy  you  don't  see  has  learned  that  the  sweetest 
sleep  may  come  to  those  who  rest  on  straw  beds  in 
sparsely  furnished  rooms,  and  that  the  softest  pillow 
may  pierce  the  head  of  the  sleeper  like  a  crown  of 
thorns. 

"Now  the  other  Peggy  says  go  ahead  with  the  sana- 
torium, rescue  these  poor  souls  that  are  languishing 
for  a  ray  of  light,  and  let  the  house  for  the  Wares  take 
care  of  itself.  It  will  be  built,  just  when  we  are  ready 
for  it.  In  the  meantime,  I  will  sleep  as  soundly  and 
be  as  happy  in  my  attic  room  as  I  shall  ever  be  even 
if  I  live  in  a  palace  with  all  the  trappings  of  royalty." 


218  Peggy    Ware 

"Gentlemen,  Peggy  is  right,"  fervently  exclaimed  her 
father,  who  had  been  listening  to  the  conversation. 
"She  always  makes  me  ashamed  of  myself  when  I  am 
tempted  to  have  selfish  thoughts  or  to  lose  my  faith  in 
God." 

"Ef  the  whole  world  wus  like  her,"  said  Anderson, 
"they  wouldn't  be  no  use  in  dyin'  to  go  to  heaven." 

"My  good  friends,  you  are  always  saying  such  lovely 
things  about  me  that  I  feel  how  insignificant  I  am.  It 
seems  to  me  that  my  mission  is  to  inspire  others,  and 
then  they  do  the  work,  while  I  sit  back  and  enjoy  it." 

"Before  this  conference  breaks  up,  I  want  to  give 
you  the  larger  vision  that  comes  to  me  about  these 
'lonesome  people.'  We  all  know  the  underlying  causes, 
and  it  will  do  little  good  to  treat  the  disease  unless  we 
remove  the  cause." 

"That  is  very  true,"  agreed  Doctor  Weston,  "but 
that  is  a  stupendous  undertaking — something  big 
enough  for  your  'Uncle  Sam,'  that  you  Americans  talk 
about. 

"It  takes  Uncle  Sam  so  long  to  wake  up  an'  stretch 
hisself,"  said  Anderson.  "Miss  Peggy  would  have  the 
job  goin'  good  by  the  time  he  got  his  eyes  open,  and 
when  the  load  got  too  heavy,  he  would  step  in  an'  help 
tote  it." 

"I  have  talked  with  father  a  great  deal  about  estab- 
lishing community  center  churches  in  each  community, 
where  the  people  can  be  taught  and  entertained.  I 
say  'taught'  deliberately,  for  I  think  that  all  so-called 
preaching  should  be  teaching,  and  that  all  entertain- 
ment should  be  based  on  the  fundamental  idea  of 
instruction. 

"Let's  build  a  chain  of  these  community  centers 
through  the  mountain  districts  of  this  county,  and  then 
extend  our  chain  as  fast  and  far  as  God  wills  it. 


Behold  What  a  Flame  a  Little  Spark  Kindleth    219 

"Here  we  will  teach  the  people  in  sermons,  in  books, 
in  pictures,  in  lectures,  and  by  and  by  we  can  close 
Doctor  Weston's  sanitarium,  for  there  won't  be  any 
more  lonesome  people." 

"A  wonderful  vision,"  exclaimed  Weston,  "but  where 
will  the  money  come  from?" 

"There  you  go  again,  Doctor.  The  same  old  ques- 
tion. What  am  I  going  to  do  with  you  men?  Don't 
you  know  that  all  things  are  possible  to  those  that 
believe?" 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  Peggy,  for  this  suggestion  of 
weakness.  I  don't  really  mean  it.  It's  just  a  habit 
that  I  brought  over  from  the  old  life,  and  it's  hard 
to  shake  off.  I  do  believe,  thank  God.  I  have  learned 
this  lesson  of  faith  from  you,  and  I  am  ready  to  under- 
take anything  in  His  name." 

"Amen  to  that  statement,"  said  Peggy's  father.  "In 
the  faith  of  the  most  wonderful  daughter  in  the  world, 
I  am  ready  to  take  charge  of  this  branch  of  the  work." 

"An'  Cliff  Anderson  is  ready  to  saw  the  lumber,  help 
build  the  houses,  an'  do  all  in  his  power  to  save  his 
people  frum  their  ignance  an'  poverty,  trustin'  that 
the  Lord  will  some  day  smile  on  him  an'  say,  'Cliff, 
you  ain't  half  as  bad  as  you  think  you  is." 

"He  is  already  saying  that  you  are  a  great  soul, 
doing  a  great  work,"  said  Peggy. 

"It  helps  me  a  pow'ful  lot  to  have  you  say  it,  an' 
I'm  gwine  to  live  up  to  it  some  day,  ef  it  takes  the 
hide,"  the  old  man  declared.  "I  recon,  that's  the  way 
you  got  everybody  goin'  in  Bucks  Pocket.  You  don't 
preach  to  'em,  you  don't  tell  'em  what  not  to  do ;  you 
jest  brag  on  'em,  an  'tell  'em  what  wonderful  folks 
they  are,  an'  ef  a  feller's  got  as  much  pride  in  him  as 
you  could  put  on  the  pint  of  a  needle,  he's  gwine  to 


220  Peggy    Ware 

live  up  to  what  you  think  about  him.     I  think  that's 
one  of  yore  secrets,  ain't  it?" 

"Well,  you  are  pretty  close  to  the  truth,  Mr.  Ander- 
son. "And  that's  the  way  we  will  build  our  com- 
munity centers.  We'll  begin  by  'braggin'  on  every- 
body. We'll  tell  them  what  a  wonderful  thing  their 
soul  is,  and  when  they  get  to  believing  it,  they  will  live 
up  to  their  belief.  Then  we  will  show  them  a  vision  of 
their  community  as  it  will  be  ten  or  twenty  years 
hence,  and  it  won't  be  long  until  everyone  gets  rilled 
with  the  vision.  After  that  the  work  is  easy,  for  we 
always  grow  just  as  big  as  our  vision." 

After  this  conference,  the  sanitarium  was  speedily 
built,  and  Doctor  Weston  gathered  up  all  the  women 
in  the  nearby  communities  afflicted  with  the  "lone- 
some disease,"  and  began  applying  his  method  of  men- 
tal and  spiritual  treatment. 

Wilbur  Ware  took  up  the  preliminary  work  of  the 
Community  Centers ;  while  Anderson  pushed  the  clear- 
ing of  the  land,  the  operation  of  the  saw  mill,  and 
growing  various  crops. 

Peggy  spent  much  time  in  her  Shrine  of  Silence. 

"Sumpin'  gwine  to  happen  big  befo'  long,"  old  Simon 
remarked  to  Cliff  Anderson  one  day. 

"What  makes  you  think  so,  Simon?" 

"Becase  dat  chile  stayin'  in  her  Sinagog  whole  hours 
an'  hours  at  a  time,  an'  when  she  comes  out  her  face  is 
shinin'  lak  a  angel.  She's  axin'  God  fer  sumpin'  big- 
ger'n  she  evah  ax  befo',  an'  you  min'  what  I  tole  you, 
it's  gwine  to  happen." 

"Well,  I  know  one  thing,  Simon,  and  that  is  what- 
ever Miss  Peggy  ax  God  to  do  he's  gwine  to  do  it. 
You  kin  jest  bet  yore  bottom  dollar  on  it." 

In  a  few  days  after  this  conversation,  a  beautiful 


Behold  What  a  Flame;  a  Little  Spark  Kindleth    221 

automobile  stopped  near  the  school  house,  and  two 
well  dressed  strangers  alighted.  They  inquired  of 
Simon,  who  was  cultivating  some  flowers  on  the  school 
grounds,  for  the  principal  of  the  Peggy  Ware  School. 

"She's  up  yondah,  whare  you  see  de  hunysuckle  vine 
clim'in'  ovah  de  hickry  log  cabin,  but  you  can't  go  up 
dah,  lessen  she  say  so." 

"Is  she  quite  an  elderly  lady,  or  just  an  old  maid?" 
one  of  them  asked  Simon. 

The  old  man  chuckled,  a  merry  twinkle  in  his  eye. 
"Well,  boss,  she  ain't  as  old  as  Methusalem,  an'  she 
ain't  as  young  as  a  baby.  When  you  sees  her,  you 
kin  do  yore  own  figgering.  Give  me  yoah  cahds,  an' 
I'll  see  ef  she  will  receive  you."  And  the  old  man 
bowed  with  a  dignity  befitting  the  Lees  of  Virginia. 

In  a  few  minutes  he  returned.  "Miss  Ware  will 
receive  you  in  her  temple,"  he  said.  "Des  foller  me, 
an'  I'll  show  you  up." 

At  the  threshold  of  Peggy's  shrine  of  Silence,  Simon 
paused,  hat  in  hand,  making  a  sweeping  gesture  for  the 
strangers  to  enter.  "This  is  Miss  Ware,  gemmen,  de 
president  of  de  Peggy  Ware  School." 

The  slight,  girlish  figure  rose  to  greet  them,  a  hand 
outstretched  to  each. 

"I  am  so  glad  to  see  you,  gentlemen,"  she  exclaimed 
with  her  usual  enthusiasm.  "Won't  you  please  be 
seated?" 

"We  were  looking  for  the  head  of  the  Peggy  Ware 
School,"  one  of  the  visitors  exclaimed.  "I  think  the 
old  darky  misunderstood  us." 

Old  Simon,  who  was  lingering  outside  the  door, 
rubbed  his  hands  gleefully,  as  was  his  habit  when  he 
was  enjoying  an  especially  good  joke.  "Boss,  youse 
done  misundahstood  yosef.     De  ole  'darky'  ain't  made 


222  Peggy    Ware 

no  mistake ;  youse  makin'  de  bigges'  mistake  ob  yoah 
life.     You  got  annuder  guess  comin'." 

"Simon  has  known  the  president  all  her  life,  and  has 
made  no  mistake.  I  am  the  president  of  the  school, 
and  my  name  is  Peggy  Ware." 

"I  am  Hubert  Winslow,  and  this  is  my  friend,  Fred 
Cranston.  I  write  motion  picture  stories,  and  my 
friend  Cranston  is  one  of  the  best  known  motion  pic- 
ture directors  in  the  world." 

"And  my  friend  Winslow  is  one  of  the  most  emi- 
nent authors,"  said  Cranston,  "and  we  both  feel  it  an 
honor  to  meet  the  celebrated  Miss  Ware." 

"I  suppose  you  might  call  us  a  trio  or  galaxy  of 
eminents,"  laughed  Peggy,  "as  you  gentlemen  are  both 
eminent,  I  can  shine  in  your  reflected  glory,  thus  com- 
pleting the  trio." 

"Pardon  me,  Miss  Ware,"  said  Winslow,  "we  don't 
mean  to  give  you  the  impression  that  we  really  amount 
to  anything.  It's  only  in  the  make-believe  world  that 
we  shine.  I  feel  already  that  my  light  is  extinguished 
as  I  stand  in  the  presence  of  real  greatness." 

"My  light's  out,  too,  and  my  hat  is  off,"  declared 
Cranston. 

"You  quite  embarrass  me,  gentlemen,  with  your  com- 
pliments. I  trust  it  is  not  sarcasm,  but  your  chivalry 
and  gallantry  that  prompts  your  extravagant  state- 
ments. 

"I  am  just  a  plain,  simple,  mountain  girl,  trying  to 
follow  my  vision,  and  I  don't  feel  that  I  have  yet 
attained  to  the  slightest  degree  of  eminence." 

"You  are  mistaken  there,"  declared  Winslow.  "Your 
fame  has  gone  out  far  and  wide,  and  hearing  of  you  we 
have  come  to  see,  and  like  the  Queen  of  Sheba,  when 
she  visited  the  court  of  King  Solomon,  I  am  already 
prepared  to  say  'the  half  has  not  been  told'." 


Behold  What  a  Flame  a  Little  Spark  Kindleth    223 

"You  are  a  true  Southerner,"  said  Peggy.  "I  won- 
der if  you  are  from  Virginia?" 

"I  am  from  Virginia,  and  my  friend  Cranston  is  from 
Kentucky,"  declared  Winslow.  "May  I  ask  if  you  are 
a  native  of  this  section?" 

"Well,  I  am  so  nearly  to  the  manner  born  that  you 
can  put  me  down  as  a  native  of  our  Southern  moun- 
tains." 

"We  have  both  felt  irresistibly  drawn  to  this  place," 
said  Winslow.  "I  know  that  I  tried  to  resist  the  feel- 
ing, and  Cranston  did  the  same.  We  endeavored  to 
laugh  each  other  out  of  the  idea,  but  it  clung  to  us 
so  tenaciously  that  we  finally  said  we  would  come  and 
see  what  it  meant." 

"I  am  glad  you  came,"  exclaimed  Peggy,  her  eyes 
bright,  her  cheeks  aglow  with  enthusiasm.  "To  tell 
you  the  truth,  I  am  not  the  least  bit  surprised.  I  think 
I  had  been  expecting  you." 

"Then  you  must  be  the  necromancer  that  brought 
us  here,"  said  Cranston.  "If  so,  then  I  charge  you  tell 
why  you  did  so !"  He  struck  a  dramatic  attitude,  and 
Peggy  laughed. 

"And  I  demand  to  know  why  you  came,"  she  ex- 
claimed, imitating  his  tone  and  gestures. 

"Since  meeting  you,  Miss  Ware,"  said  Winslow, 
quite  seriously  now,  "I  think  I  have  come  here  to  write 
the  story  of  your  life  and  work.  I  have  read  of  your 
work,  and  it  will  make  a  great  picture. 

"As  I  see  you,  there  is  a  soul  to  your  story  that  is 
lacking  in  the  conventional  motion  picture.  I  have 
written  the  other  sort  until  I  am  sick  and  tired  of  it. 
I  think  the  public  is  getting  weary  too.  I  believe  there 
is  a  big  field  for  big,  vital  themes,  representing  life  as 
lived  by  real  people,  and  it  is  my  ambition  to  write  at 
least  one  such  story  before  I  die." 


224  Peggy    Ware 

"And  I  am  quite  as  ambitious  to  screen  it,"  said 
Cranston,  "and  I  want  you  for  my  star,  Miss  Ware." 

"Oh,  you'll  need  a  brighter  light  than  I  am  for  your 
star,  Mr.  Cranston.  It  takes  all  of  my  shining  for 
Bucks  Pocket." 

"You  are  going  to  shine  for  all  the  world,  Miss  Ware, 
when  I  have  written  and  Cranston  has  filmed  your 
story." 

"I  am  eager  to  begin  writing  it.  Won't  you  com- 
mence to  tell  us  at  once,  give  us  the  'local  color?'  I 
want  to  get  full  of  it,  saturated  with  it,  before  I  begin 
to  write  it.  While  I  write,  Cranston  will  get  his  loca- 
tions, his  props,  and  be  ready  to  film  it." 

"We  will  find  plenty  of  'local  color,'  gentlemen," 
said  Peggy,  "and  when  you  have  absorbed  this,  I'll  fill 
in  the  details  of  the  story  as  you  may  desire." 

"I  have  observed  that  you  have  written  over  the 
portals  of  your  'temple,'  as  Simon  called  your  retreat, 
'Shrine  of  Silence.'  This  will  be  a  good  place  to  begin. 
It  is  big  local  color." 

"That  will  be  the  end  of  the  story,  Mr.  Winslow,  as 
I  propose  to  tell  it  to  you.  You  can  put  it  anywhere 
in  the  story  that  pleases  you,  but  I  will  give  it  to  you 
last,  and  you  must  not  ask  anyone  about  it  until  I  get 
ready  to  tell  you." 

"My  curiosity  is  greatly  aroused,"  Winslow  declared, 
"but  I  will  respect  your  wishes." 

"I  will  call  Simon,  and  let  him  accompany  you  to 
the  various  places  of  interest,  and  let  you  meet  some 
of  our  principal  characters,  and  afterward  I  want  you 
to  attend  our  first  picture  show.  Tomorrow  we  shall 
be  ready  to  begin  the  serious  work  of  preparation,  I 
hope." 

Simon  was  in  all  his  glory  as  he  accompanied  Wins- 
low and  Cranston.     It  afforded  him  a  big  opportunity 


Behold  What  a  Flame;  a  Little;  Spark  KindlETh    225 

to  sing  the  praises  of  Peggy,  and  there  was  no  other 
theme  in  all  the  world  one-half  so  big. 

He  conducted  them  through  the  school  buildings, 
the  work  rooms,  the  factory  where  furniture  was  being 
made.  They  were  shown  the  sawmill,  the  fields  where 
but  a  few  months  previously  great  forest  trees  grew 
and  now  producing  abundant  crops.  Down  in  the 
meadow  was  the  herd  of  high  class  Jersey  cows,  which 
supplied  the  boys  and  girls  with  choice  milk  and  butter. 

"Heah  is  de  spring  house,  whare  we  keeps  de  milk 
des  as  cole  as  ice,"  explained  Simon,  as  he  escorted  the 
visitors  to  a  large  rock  house  through  which  the  water 
from  a  big  spring  flowed.  "Did  you  evah  drink  buttah 
milk  out  of  a  goahd?"  asked  Simon. 

They  both  declared  they  had  never  done  so,  but 
would  like  to  try  the  experiment. 

"Milk  alius  am  bettah  outen  a  good  sweet  goahd 
dan  any  udder  way  you  kin  drink  it,"  the  old  man  went 
on  enthusiastically,  as  he  proceeded  to  pour  a  big 
gourd  full  for  each  of  them.  As  they  emptied  their 
gourds  and  called  for  more,  he  laughed  softly. 

"You  drinks  it  lak  quality,"  he  said.  "You  know  dat 
you  kin  alius  tell  a  shore  'miff  Southern  gemman  by 
what  he  eats  an'  drinks.  Dey  learn  dis  befo,  de  wah, 
when  de  ole  nigger  mammies  didn't  hab  nuthin'  to  do 
'cept  study  up  sumpin'  to  cook  fer  de  white  folks.  Dey 
learn  to  cook  lots  ob  things  what  nobody  else  evah 
thought  ob  cookin',  an'  it  wus  de  bes'  eatin'  in  de  worl'. 
Dah's  possum  an'  taters,  chitlens,  hog  jowl  an'  turnip 
greens,  craklin'  bread,  souse,  backbone  an'  spare  ribs, 
hot  biscuits  an'  fried  chicken,  an'  buttah  milk  outen  a 
goahd.  When  a  gemman  don't  lak  all  dat,  you  know 
dey  wus  sumpin'  wrong  wid  his  eddycation." 

Alongside  the  field  of  a  hundred  acres  or  more  culti- 
vated by  the  pupils  of  the  Peggy  Ware  School,  they 


226  Peggy    Wake 

ran  across  Jeff  Carries,  a  relic  of  the  old  Wild  Cat  days 
of  Bucks  Pocket.  He  was  plowing,  an  ox  hitched  by  a 
yoke  to  a  crude  wooden  plow. 

"Dese  gemmen  want  to  talk  to  you,  Mr.  Carnes," 
said  Simon,  politely. 

"All  right,  fellers,  jest  fire  away,  fer  the  steer  is  alius 
glad  of  an  excuse  to  stop  an'  chat,  an'  I  don't  min'  it 
myself.     What  is  youalls'  business  in  Bucks  Pocket?" 

"We  are  interested  in  motion  pictures,"  said  Wins- 
low,  "and  are  here  to  write  the  story  of  the  Peggy 
Ware  School  and  make  a  motion  picture  of  it." 

"See  here,  strangers,  you  can't  stuff  none  o'  that 
foolishness  down  me.  Ef  I  wus  guessin',  I'd  say  you 
wus  revenoos  snoopin'  round  heah.  But  they  ain't 
nuthin'  fer  you  to  be  nosin'  about.  When  the  big 
Cap'n  quit  making  'er,  we  knowed  they  wus  sumpin' 
up,  an'  we  better  quit,  an'  they  ain't  been  a  drap  made 
in  Bucks  Pocket  sence.' 

"What  made  the  'Captain',  as  you  call  him,  quit 
making  wild-cat  liquor?"  asked  Winslow,  eager  for  a 
story. 

"Oh,  it  wus  that  Peggy  Ware  gal,  I  recon,"  he 
drawled.  "I  ain't  heerd  anybody  say,  but  she  jes' 
winds  Cliff  Anderson  aroun'  her  fingers  like  a  cotton 
string,  an'  I  think  she  got  him  to  quit.  I  axed  him  one 
day,  an'  he  comes  nigh  hittin'  me  an'  said,  'You  jest 
keep  Miss  Ware's  name  outen  my  wild  catten',  an'  I 
ain't  never  said  no  more  to  him  about  it. 

"You  talkin'  about  yore  movin'  picters.  My  Sal — 
she's  my  gal,  you  know,  says  they  is  gwine  to  be  a 
movin'  picter  show  at  the  church  house  tonight,  an' 
she  an'  Jane,  she's  my  wife,  you  know,  is  tryin'  to  git 
me  to  go.  I  tell  'em  I  ain't  gwine  to  make  a  fool  of 
myself  by  gwine  up  thare,  becase  they  never  wus  no 
picter  what  could  move  onless  somebody  moved  it. 


Behold  What  a  Flame  a  Little  Spark  KindlEth    227 

Jane  says  maybe  it's  so,  an',  ef  it  is,  it  proves  that  the 
worl'  is  comin'  to  a  end,  becase  the  Bible  says,  so  she 
says  the  preacher  says,  that  before  the  end  of  the  worl' 
the  people'll  git  weaker  an'  wiser.  Wall,  you'd  haft  to 
be  pow'ful  weak  to  believe  that  picters  kin  move." 

"If  you  will  come  out  tonight,  and  the  pictures  don't 
move,  and  move  faster  than  you  ever  saw  a  dog  run, 
I'll  let  you  hitch  me  to  your  plow  tomorrow,  and  I'll 
pull  it  for  you,"  said  Cranston. 

"By  gosh !  You're  game,  all  right,"  declared  Carnes. 
"I  think  I'll  go  you  one  an'  come  with  the  folks  tonight, 
an'  tomorrow  I'll  let  ole  Buck  rest,  an'  I'll  plow  you." 
As  he  visioned  the  well-dressed  stranger  yoked  to  the 
plow,  he  laughed  heartily. 

"You  know,  my  Sal  blieves  everythin'  that  Ware 
gal  tells  her.  An'  she's  tryin'  to  fix  her  hair  and  look 
jist  like  her.  All  the  gals  in  Bucks  Pocket  is  doin'  the 
same  thing.  They  all  quit  dippin'  snuff  an'  quit  goin' 
barefooted  to  church,  an'  the  ole  woman  made  me  do 
without  terbaccy  long  enough  to  buy  Sal  a  pair  o' 
shoes.  Lordy,  but  it  purty  nigh  kilt  me !  But  they 
warn't  nuthin'  else  to  do.  When  the  women  folks  git 
the  Peggy  Wares,  I  call  it,  they  is  wus'n  a  locoed  hoss, 
an'  we  men  mout  as  well  set  in  the  shade.  Trouble  is, 
most  all  the  men  got  the  Peggy  Wares  too,  all  'cept 
me,  an'  Bud  Whitman  an'  one  or  two  more,  an'  my 
Sal  says  I'll  ketch  it  ef  I  don't  look  out." 

"All  right,  stranger,  I'll  be  thar  tonight,  an'  ef  she 
don't  move,  I'll  plow  you  tomorrow,"  and  the  old  man 
chuckled  as  his  ox  ambled  slowly  away,  dragging  the 
crude  plow. 

"Wait  a  minute,"  shouted  Cranston.  "Suppose  she 
does  move,  then  can  I  plow  you?" 

He  scratched  his  head,  a  shrewd  look  in  his  eyes. 
"The  worl's  gittin'  wiser,  stranger,"  he  said.     "I  guess 


228  Peggy    Wars 

not.  Git  up  thare,  Buck.  See  you  tonight,"  and  he 
was  off  down  the  crooked  corn  row,  creeping  at  a  snail's 
pace. 

"Didn't  you  know  she  wits  a  Lee  on  her  mother's 
side?"  Simon  replied  in  answer  to  a  question  from 
Winslow. 

"Bless  yore  soul,  her  gran'  daddy  wus  a  cousin  of 
General  Robert  E.  Lee,  an'  he  wus  killed  in  de  wah.  I 
brung  him  off  de  battlefield.  He  an'  Captain  Anderson 
wus  both  shot  at  de  same  time,  an'  I  carried  Massa  An- 
derson off  too,  but  I  nevah  knowed  who  it  wus  tel  de 
night  de  White  Caps  wus  gwine  to  hang  me,  an'  den 
he  tole  e'm  about  it." 

"Tell  us  about  the  White  Caps,  Simon,"  said  Wins- 
low.  "The  plot  thickens,  Cranston.  We  are  on  the 
trail  of  the  biggest  story  ever  screened." 

"Yo  don't  know  nuthin'  yet,  gemmen ;  jest  wait  till 
you  sees  and  heahs  it  jail." 

5jJ  i^  JjC  S[C  yf-  5JC  3jC5|C 

After  meeting  Anderson,  his  wife,  and  Ruth,  Simon 
escorted  them  to  Doctor  Weston's  sanitarium.  Here 
they  met  Wilbur  Ware  and  Doctor  Weston. 

"Peggy  has  already  told  us  of  your  mission,  gentle- 
men," said  her  father,  "and  I  am  more  than  glad  you 
came.  I  think  you  will  be  greatly  interested  in  Doctor 
Weston's  work." 

"I  am  sure  we  shall  be,"  said  Cranston.  "Everything 
here  is  so  real  that  it  seems  refreshing  to  me.  I  sup- 
pose it  is  because  I  have  lived  so  long  in  the  artificial 
world — a  sort  of  make-believe  life,  where  everyone 
wears  a  mask,  and  attempts  to  conceal  his  identity.  It 
is  so  different  here,  where  people  are  not  playing  an 
assumed  part,  but  just  living  their  natural  lives." 

"A  wonderfully  interesting  phase  of  this  life  as  I 


Behold  What  a  Flame  a  Little  Spark  Kindleth    229 

have  found  it,  is  very  tragic,"  declared  Weston.  "We 
have  built  this  place  to  care  for  and  treat  a  class  of 
people  who  have  the  'lonesome  disease,'  a  term  these 
mountaineers  use  to  designate  a  peculiar  form  of  in- 
sanity brought  on  by  the  barren,  colorless  life  led  by 
these  isolated  mountain  people,  especially  the  women." 

"Ah,  this  is  something  new,  something  startling," 
exclaimed  Winslow.  "Do  tell  us  all  about  it.  What  a 
wonderful  feature  it  will  be  in  our  big  story." 

Doctor  Weston  sketched  the  conditions  that  pre- 
vailed in  these  out-of-the-way  places,  and  described  the 
mental  state  resulting  in  the  lonesome  malady. 

"Can  they  be  cured?"  asked  Winslow. 

"Yes,  I  am  curing  them,"  answered  Weston.  "It  is 
done  by  the  law  of  suggestion.  They  have  lost  the 
connection  between  their  souls  and  their  minds,  using 
mind  in  the  sense  that  it  is  a  function  of  the  brain. 
It  is  my  work  to  re-establish  this  connection,  or,  to  put 
it  differently,  uncross  the  wires.  When  the  wires  are 
uncrossed  so  they  can  receive  communications  from 
their  souls,  it  is  comparatively  easy  to  bring  them  back 
to  normal.  After  that,  it  is  a  question  of  building  the 
proper  brain  cells.  It  is  just  as  easy  to  grow  brains 
as  it  is  cabbage." 

Cranston  and  Winslow  both  laughed  heartily  at  what 
they  thought  a  pet  joke  of  Doctor  Weston's. 

"That  would  be  the  most  wonderful  truth  in  the 
world,  if  it  were  a  truth,"  declared  Winslow. 

"It  is  vitally  true,  I  assure  you,"  Weston  declared 
eagerly.  "Not  only  can  you  make  your  own  brains, 
you  can  renew  your  body  so  that  you  need  never  grow 
old.  The  process  is  so  simple  that  we  are  teaching  it 
to  the  youngest  of  our  boys  and  girls.  You  can  build 
just  such  a  body  as  you  desire,  with  features  and  per- 
sonality in  keeping  with  your  thoughts." 


230  Peggy    Ware 

"If  I  can  be  shown  the  proof  of  these  theories,"  cried 
Winslow,  "Cranston  and  I  will  give  the  world  a  lesson 
on  the  screen  that  will  stagger  the  imagination." 

"Gladly  will  I  show  you  the  proof,"  declared  Wes- 
ton, "for  it  is  at  the  foundation  of  all  our  teaching,  and 
everywhere  you  turn  you  will  find  living  evidence. 

"Miss  Ware  is  our  most  striking  example,  and  after 
her  come  the  others,  from  the  greatest  to  the  least, 
with  every  development  from  the  old  "Hard  Shell" 
meeting  house  to  what  you  see  today.  And  this  is 
only  the  beginning.  The  soul  of  Peggy  Ware  is  build- 
ing, building,  day  and  night,  waking  and  sleeping,  and 
there  is  going  forth  from  here  not  only  this  great  truth, 
but  the  living  evidence  to  support  it." 

"This  is  stupendous,"  declared  Winslow,"  and  your 
honesty  and  earnestness  convince  me  that  there  is  some 
basis  for  your  claims.  I  should  like  to  believe  it,  for 
it  means  much  to  me,  and  much  to  mankind." 

"If  you  asked  me  for  one  word  that  would  give  you 
a  key  word  for  the  story  you  are  going  to  write,  I 
would  say,  'Salvation,'  declared  Wilbur  Ware. 

"Make  this  the  key,  and  build  around  it  the  concrete 
facts  as  you  find  them  here,  and  you  will  have  a  theme 
that  the  world  is  thirsting  for." 

"Salvation  just  means  accepting  some  religious 
dogma,  doesn't  it,  Mr.  Ware?"  asked  Cranston. 

"That  is  not  what  the  Peggy  Ware  School  means  by 
Salvation,  Mr.  Cranston.  The  theological  idea  of  sal- 
vation is  that  a  man  must  say  he  believes  a  certain 
thing,  and  he  is  instantly  saved.  It  is  too  easy  and 
means  nothing.  The  salvation  we  teach  is  one  that 
makes  man  responsible  for  every  act  and  thought,  that 
says  he  must  pay  to  the  last  farthing — that  he  cannot 
shirk  the  consequences  of  his  own  wrong  doing.    We 


Behold  What  a  Flame  a  Little  Spark  Kindleth    231 

teach  our  boys  and  girls  that  they  would  be  cowards  if 
they  attempted  to  lay  their  sins  on  someone  else. 

"Knowing  that  they  must  reap  what  they  sow,  we 
have  laid  the  foundation  for  salvation  that  begins  in 
building  a  perfect  brain  in  a  perfect  body,  dominated 
by  an  awakened  soul.  The  process  ends  when  the 
animal  man  is  crucified,  and  the  soul  is  the  Master  of 
the  life." 

"But  that  is  a  hard  road,  a  long  road,"  said  Winslow 
very  seriously.     "Is  there  no  other  way?" 

"No  other  way,  my  friend,  however  long  and  painful 
the  journey.  It  may  take  ages,  aeons  for  some  of  us, 
but  others  will  travel  more  swiftly  to  the  same  goal. 
Peggy  seems  to  have  lived  ages  in  a  single  year,  and 
others  of  us  are  trying  to  walk  in  her  footsteps." 

"I,  too,  would  find  the  way,"  declared  Winslow. 

"And  I,"  said  Cranston  solemnly. 

"It's  time  to  go  to  de  picter  show,  gemmen,"  de- 
clared Simon. 

"We  certainly  don't  want  to  miss  it,"  said  Cranston. 
"I  think  we  will  get  some  fine  screen  material." 

The  Mayor  of  Chattanooga  had  sent  down  on  the 
boat  the  day  before  a  projecting  machine  and  full  outfit 
for  exhibiting  motion  pictures.  The  church  had  been 
fitted  up  and  it  was  the  night  of  the  first  performance. 

The  news  had  spread  throughout  the  Pocket  like 
wildfire,  and  long  before  the  opening  hour  the  entire 
population  was  outside  waiting,  from  babies  in  arms  to 
old,  gray-haired  grandfathers  and  grandmothers. 

Peggy's  boys  and  girls  occupied  the  front  seats, 
where  their  view  would  be  unobstructed.  Every  seat 
was  taken,  and  the  aisles  were  packed.  When  the  pro- 
jection machine  began  to  click  and  sputter,  there  was 
great  excitement.  Not  a  dozen  souls  in  the  house  had 
ever  seen  a  motion  picture. 


232  Peggy    Ware 

At  last  the  pictures  appeared  on  the  screen.  As  the 
characters  actually  moved,  talked,  laughed,  fought, 
right  before  their  eyes,  bedlam  broke  loose.  The  boys 
cheered  wildly,  the  girls  clapped  their  hands  and 
laughed,  the  older  people  expressed  various  degrees  of 
amazement. 

Winslow  and  Cranston  had  never  witnessed  such  a 
scene.  If  they  only  had  a  camera  man  and  were  pre- 
pared to  "shoot  it,"  what  a  sensation  it  would  create 
in  the  cities. 

"Write  the  story,  Winslow,  write  it  just  as  it  is,  and 
we  will  use  these  natives,  just  as  we  see  them  tonight," 
said  Cranston,  "and  the  great  director  felt  a  thrill  of 
reality  he  had  not  often  experienced. 

It  was  a  five-reel  film,  and  when  it  was  finished  there 
were  murmurs  of  disappointment.  "Make  her  move 
agin,"  was  shouted  by  a  hundred  throats ;  and  to  please 
them  Peggy  ordered  .the  operator  to  run  the  film  the 
second  time.  The  interest  and  enthusiasm  was  greater 
than  at  the  first  showing,  if  possible. 

Winslow  and  Cranston  were  caught  in  the  surging 
tide,  and  schemes  for  helping  Peggy  carry  out  her 
plans  were  rioting  through  their  heads. 

Not  satisfied  with  the  second  run,  the  crowd  clam- 
ored for  more.  Not  until  Peggy  assured  them  they 
should  have  a  new  picture  the  following  night  would 
they  consent  to  go  home. 

"That's  the  bigges'  thing  I  ever  seed  sence  the  woods 
wus  burnt,"  said  one  old  fellow,  as  the  crowd  was  filing 
slowly  out  of  the  house. 

"Huh,"  said  his  companion,  "it  beats  a  camp  meetin' 
er  a  barbecue,  an'  I  would  lak  to  see  one  ev'ry  night  as 
long  as  I  live." 

"I  recon'  ef  we  can  have  them  movin'  picters  onct  in 
a  while,  we  women  folks  won't  be  so  lonesome,"  de- 


Behold  What  a  Flame;  a  Little  Spark  Kindleth    233 

clared  a  wrinkled  old  soul,  her  face  well  hid  by  her  big 
sunbonnet. 

"Ain't  it  the  truth?"  exclaimed  a  half  dozen  who 
were  in  full  accord  with  her. 

"Say,  stranger,"  called  Carnes  to  Cranston,  "I  turned 
old  Buck  out  to  grass  an'  told  him  he  could  rest  to- 
morrow, but  I'll  have  to  git  'im  up  an'  plow  'im,  fer 
she  shore  did  move,  didnt  she?  An'  I  got  the  Peggy 
Wares  as  bad  as  my  Sal." 


Chapter  Seventeen 
THE  SLACKER'S  RENDEZVOUS 

i  'T  TOXJ  have  never  told  us  the  secret  of  your 
Y  "Shrine  of  Silence,"  Miss  Ware,  "said  Hubert 
Winslow,  one  morning  after  he  and  Cranston 
had  spent  many  weeks  in  Bucks  Pocket  and  the  sur- 
rounding mountain  territory.  "I  have  now  written 
the  story  of  your  life,  with  its  romantic  activities,  and 
am  ready  to  learn  from  your  own  lips  the  'why'  of  it. 
To  my  mind,  the  'why'  is  the  most  important  part  of 
the  story  and  everything  else  is  detail." 

"I  feel  the  same  way  about  it,"  said  Cranston.  "Since 
coming  here,  I  have  slowly  come  into  your  vision — at 
least  I  suppose  that  is  it — and  I  have  a  feeling  that  you 
possess  a  great  secret 'that  I  need  to  learn,  that  the 
world  needs  to  know,  and  that,  somehow  this  secret 
that  you  must  know,  is  the  key  that  will  unlock  to  all 
men  the  storehouse  of  happiness  and  abundance  that 
you  have  evidently  found.  Won't  you  tell  us  all 
about  it?" 

"I  did  not  tell  you  at  the  outset,  gentlemen,"  said 
Peggy,  "fearing  that  you  would  think  me  some  sort  of 
wild-eyed  fanatic,  and  for  many  reasons  I  did  not  want 
you  to  get  that  impression.  To  the  average  man  of  the 
world,  what  I  am  going  to  say  to  you  would  be  the 
babbling  of  an  imbecile. 

Saint  Paul  said  that  spiritual  things  must  be  spirit- 
ually discerned,  and  when  one  talks  of  the  soul  and 
things  of  the  soul  to  those  who  are  living  and  thinking 
wholly  on  the  animal  or  material  plane,  one  may  expect 
ridicule  and  often  scorn. 
234 


The  Slacker's  Rendezvous  235 

The  great-souled  Emerson  said  :  "Every  man's  words 
who  speaks  from  that  life  must  sound  vain  to  those 
who  do  not  dwell  in  the  same  thought  on  their  own 
part.  I  dare  not  speak  for  it.  My  words  do  not  carry 
its  august  sense;  they  fall  short  and  cold,  only  itself 
can  inspire  whom  it  will,  and  behold !  their  speech 
shall  be  lyrical  and  sweet,  and  universal  as  the  rising 
of  the  wind." 

"Since  you  have  seen  what  we  have  accomplished, 
how  sane  and  practical  all  our  plans  are,  and  know  the 
story  from  the  beginning,  and  are  now  in  full  accord 
with  the  spirit  of  the  work,  I  am  glad  to  try  to  tell  you 
the  'why'  of  my  work,  of  which  the  'Shrine  of  Silence' 
is,  to  my  mind,  the  incarnation. 

"In  all  ages  there  has  been  an  esoteric  religion,  not 
known  to  the  masses,  because  they  were  too  material- 
istic  to  understand.  The  prophets  and  seers  of  all  time 
have  known  these  deeper  truths,  and  never  since  man 
has  been  man  has  there  been  a  time  when  God  did  not 
have  His  witnesses  in  the  world  to  these  truths. 

"Jesus  came  when  materialism  threatened  to  extin- 
guish the  light  of  truth,  and  restated  its  principles  in  a 
way  that  no  other  teacher  had  done.  He  revealed  the 
whole  truth  to  his  disciples  in  spiritual  language,  be- 
cause their  spiritual  eyes  were  open,  but  to  the  materi- 
alistic masses  He  spoke  in  parables.  I  believe  the 
time  is  near  for  the  revelation  of  the  truth  to  the  world, 
and  I  am  so  glad  that  here,  in  this  out-of-the-way 
corner  of  God's  vineyard,  I  may  be  an  humble  instru- 
ment in  this  revelation. 

"In  all  ages  men  have  talked  to  God.  They  have 
realized  their  oneness  with  Him  and  all  His  creation. 
Jesus'  mission  was  to  bring  all  men  to  this  realization, 
this   soul   consciousness,  this   God  consciousness,  for 


236  Peggy    War^ 

with  it  comes  'power  to  become  the  Sons  of  God,'  in 
the  language  of  one  of  the  apostles. 

"If  I  wanted  to  talk  to  my  father  about  the  most 
vital  thing  in  my  life,  I  should  not  want  to  do  so  in 
the  busy  marts  of  trade,  where  the  clang  and  clamor 
would  distract  my  mind  and  his  attention. 

"Men  have  learned  that  in  order  to  talk  to  God,  their 
souls  must  be  attuned  to  the  Divine  Spirit,  and  that 
this  can  best  be  done  in  the  silence  of  one's  own  soul. 
So  Jesus  sought  the  secret  places,  where  he  could  talk 
to  His  Father  face  to  face.  All  great  souls  have 
done  so. 

"This  is  the  'why'  of  my  'Shrine  of  Silence.'  It  is  here 
that  I  have  received  wisdom,  guidance,  and  power.  It 
is  here  that  I  have  found  peace  to  my  soul  when  it  was 
tossed  about  by  the  tempest  of  selfishness. 

"The  first  condition  to  God's  guidance  is  the  cruci- 
fixion of  self.  When  we  have  done  that,  we  can  go 
confidently  into  the  silence  where  only  God  is. 

"Jesus  said :  'Therefore,  I  say  unto  you,  what  things 
soever  ye  desire,  when  ye  pray,  believe  that  ye  receive 
them,  and  ye  shall  have  them.'  This  is  the  'why'  of 
my  life,  of  the  story  of  the  Peggy  Ware  School. 

"It  was  in  my  Shrine  of  Silence  that  I  asked  God  to 
send  someone  to  help  develop  my  vision  of  motion  pic- 
tures for  the  isolated  mountain  people,  and  you  came. 
Now  our  vision  has  grown  and  we  want  to  take  in  the 
whole  world  with  pictures  that  have  a  soul,  that  teach 
life. 

"From  the  first  feeble  beginning  in  the  old  Hard 
Shell  church  house,  until  today,  God  has  guided  me  in 
just  this  way." 

"If  we  can  get  Peggy  Ware's  message  over  on  the 
screen,"  declared  Cranston,  "we  will  set  a  new 
standard  in  motion  pictures.     For  a  long  time  I  have 


The  Slacker's  Rendezvous  237 

realized  that  my  life  was  lacking  in  something,  that 
there  was  an  eternal  longing  in  my  soul  that  nothing 
could  satisfy.  I  think  I  am  beginning  to  get  a  glimpse 
of  that  something,  and  my  coming  to  Bucks  Pocket 
marks  the  beginning  of  a  new  life  for  me." 

"You  have  voiced  my  sentiments,"  declared  Wins- 
low,  "and  I  feel  that  we  have  discovered  a  secret  here 
that  will  help  to  revolutionize  the  motion  picture 
industry. 

"It  stands  fourth  today  in  magnitude  in  the  world's 
industries,  and  some  day  it  will  be  first,  but  not  until 
it  has  undergone  a  great  change.  This  change  is  fun- 
damental, to  my  mind,  and  before  it  is  effected  there 
is  going  to  be  a  great  upheaval  in  the  motion  picture 
world." 

"The  fight  has  already  begun,"  said  Cranston. 
"There  has  been  a  big  reduction  in  salaries  and  a  cur- 
tailment of  production.  The  public  is  turning  to  the 
legitimate  stage  in  ever-increasing  numbers,  and  even 
the  long-neglected  lecture  is  coming  into  favor  again. 
And  now  the  producers,  the  big  and  little  stars,  the 
screen  writers,  and  directors  are  crying  out  against 
having  notorious  characters  place  the  story  of  their 
sordid,  vulgar  lives  on  the  screen." 

"These  are  signs  of  the  times,"  said  Winslow,  "and 
there  are  others.  One  of  the  biggest  is  the  movement 
for  Sunday  closing  laws  and  censorship  regulations. 
The  people  who  are  protesting  against  filming  the  lives 
of  notorious  characters  are  also  much  exercised  about 
the  enactment  of  blue  laws.  The  fight  for  Sunday 
closing  of  motion-picture  houses  is  being  strenuously 
opposed  by  them.  The  fundamental  cause  of  the 
trouble  they  have  not  grasped.  The  fundamental  idea 
of  motion  pictures  has  heretofore  been  entertainment. 
Under  this  head,   the   screen   has  been   flooded  with 


238  Peggy    Ware 

thousands  of  stories  more  sordid,  more  repulsive  than 
the  life  of  any  ex-murderess  now  before  the  public,  and 
some  of  the  people  who  are  now  protesting  so  loudly 
against  these  notorious  characters,  and  against  the 
screening  of  their  life  stories,  are  today  engaged  in 
making  pictures  either  too  inane  or  too  dirty  to  be 
shown  in  a  barroom,  much  less  in  a  decent  motion  pic- 
ture theatre.  Such  pictures  have  brought  on  the  fight 
against  the  industry,  and  the  clean  people  in  the  busi- 
ness, who  are  in  the  vast  majority,  should  see  where 
the  trouble  lies." 

"Speaking  of  barrooms,"  said  Peggy,  "suggests  to 
my  mind  that  it  was  the  saloon  that  furnished  the  pro- 
hibitionists with  most  of  their  arguments  for  prohibi- 
tion. I  think  the  motion-picture  people  who  are  pro- 
ducing the  class  of  pictures  you  refer  to  are  furnishing 
the  advocates  of  Sunday  closing  and  other  repressive 
measures  their  arguments  for  these  drastic  laws. 

"I  am  opposed  to  censorship,  except  the  censorship 
of  an  enlightened  public  conscience.  I  am  also  opposed 
to  closing  the  picture  shows  on  Sunday,  but  unless 
there  is  a  change  in  the  standard  of  pictures  now  being 
made,  we  will  see  the  picture  shows  closed  on  Sunday, 
and  also  fanatical  boards  of  censorship. 

"If  the  people  engaged  in  making  pictures  don't 
wake  up,  there  will  be  nobody  to  defend  them.  Just 
as  it  was  with  the  saloon.  It  got  so  bad  that  no  one 
dared  defend  it,  except  those  engaged  in  the  business, 
and  'bone  dry'  prohibition  laws  were  the  result.  Those 
engaged  in  the  motion-picture  industry  may  well  profit 
by  this  example." 

"They  must  make  the  basis  of  pictures  educational 
along  constructive  lines,"  declared  Winslow.  "They 
need  not  be  less  entertaining,  less  dramatic,  less  beau- 
tiful.    They  must  be  pictures  with  a  soul." 


The  Slacker's  Rendezvous  239 

"And  they  must  be  clean  enough  to  exhibit  in  the 
churches,"  declared  Cranston. 

"If  I  were  a  preacher,"  said  Peggy,  "I  would  not  ob- 
ject if  there  was  a  motion-picture  theatre  next  door  to 
my  church.  If  my  message  were  not  vital  enough  to 
draw  an  audience,  then  I  should  prefer  that  they  attend 
the  motion-picture  show. 

"My  idea  is  to  combine  the  church  and  the  motion- 
picture  house,  at  least  in  the  rural  districts.  That  is 
what  we  propose  doing  in  our  community  centers. 
Instead  of  fighting  Sunday  pictures,  howling  for  cen- 
sorship, and  other  blue  laws,  the  preachers,  the  church 
people ;  in  fact,  all  decent  people,  should  rise  up  and 
take  charge  of  this  great  educational  industry  and  make 
it  the  most  tremendous  force  for  good  in  the  world. 
This  is  the  motion-picture  era,  and  the  industry  must 
be  rescued  from  those  who  would  destroy  the  soul  of 
the  Nation  for  the  sake  of  paltry  dollars." 

"Our  idea  of  pictures,"  said  Winslow,  "will  be  just 
as  strenuously  opposed  by  many  of  those  now  in  the 
business  as  they  are  opposing  blue  laws,  for  the  reason 
that  they  call  all  teaching  preaching,  and  say  that 
people  can  go  to  church  to  get  their  preaching.  I  think 
that  depends. 

"We  will  give  them  'Peggy  Ware'  as  our  first  great 
constructive  picture  based  on  the  fundamental  idea  of 
teaching,  rather  than  entertainment.  We  will  try  the 
experiment  and  see  if  the  public  will  support  our  views. 
If  so,  then  we  will  know  that  people  want  to  get  away 
from  the  world  of  make  believe,  the  world  of  the 
brothel,  the  dance  hall,  the  saloon  and  the  liaisons  of 
either  the  upper  or  underworld." 

"We  will  select  our  characters  from  real  life,"  said 
Cranston,  "taking  people  who  have  lived  the  life  they 
undertake  to  portray  on  the  screen." 


240  Peggy    Ware 

"How  could  any  actress,  however  clever,  take  the 
part  of  Peggy  Ware,  who  did  not  have  her  soul,  her 
vision?  So  with  the  other  characters  in  our  story.  We 
will  have  a  real  Doctor  Weston,  an  old  Simon,  a  Wil- 
bur Ware,  and  a  Cliff  Anderson.  These  people  will 
act,  not  merely  'act  acting.'  What  a  joy  it  will  be  to 
see  characters  on  the  screen  that  act,  rather  than  those 
that  imitate  acting. 

"It  may  be  all  right  for  people  without  soul,  char- 
acter or  vision  to  take  part  in  the  stories  of  the  smart 
set,  the  artificial  society  plays,  the  reeking  sex  dramas, 
but  they  are  incapable  of  playing  great  parts  in  real 
human  drama." 

"We  are  trying  a  new  experiment,"  said  Winslow, 
"and  I  have  never  in  my  life  felt  such  assurance,  such 
enthusiasm. 

"We  have  commenced  'shooting'  our  scenes,  and  will 
push  the  work  as  rapidly  as  possible,  for  I  am  almost 
as  impatient  as  a  boy'to  see  the  first  showing  of  Peggy 
Ware  on  the  screen. 

^         *         *         #  *  *  ** 

Bucks  Pocket  had  been  transformed  in  a  short  time 
from  the  den  of  the  Wild  Catters  to  the  dynamic  center 
of  activities  that  were  attracting  attention  far  and 
wide.  The  governor  of  Alabama  came  to  learn  at  first 
hand  about  the  Peggy  Ware  School.  He  could  hardly 
realize  that  the  most  lawless  spot  in  the  State  had 
become  the  center  of  a  movement  that  promised  more 
for  the  mountain  boys  and  girls  than  anything  that 
had  ever  been  attempted.  He  saw  the  practical  work- 
ings of  the  Peggy  Ware  system,  and  became  an  en- 
thusiastic convert. 

"I  wish  I  could  pledge  you  State  aid,"  he  said,  "but 
it  is  not  in  my  power.  It  would  require  a  special  act 
of  the  Legislature,  and  that  would  be  difficult  to  get. 


The;  Slacker's  Rendezvous  241 

If  you  had  a  strong,  forceful  representative  from  your 
county,  fully  imbued  with  the  spirit  of  your  work,  he 
might  be  able  to  sway  the  Legislature.  If  every  mem- 
ber could  come  here  and  catch  the  spirit,  as  I  have, 
there  would  be  no  question  about  it. 

"I  have  in  mind  the  man  to  make  the  race  for  the 
Legislature,"  said  Peggy.  "He  is  the  backbone  of  this 
institution,  and  there  never  could  have  been  a  Peggy 
Ware  School  but  for  him." 

Cliff  Anderson  began  to  shift  from  one  foot  to  the 
other,  looking  about  in  a  frightened  sort  of  way,  like 
a  big  boy. 

"Oh,  it's  you,  Mr.  Anderson,"  and  it  won't  do  any 
good  for  you  to  take  stage  fright  this  early  in  the 
game,"  declared  Peggy.  "There  will  be  time  enough 
for  that  when  you  meet  Mr.  Fuller,  your  opponent,  in 
joint  discussion." 

"Now,  see  here,  Miss  Peggy,  you  are  trying  to  make 
game  of  me,"  said  Anderson,  dryly.  "It's  a  good  joke 
for  you  an'  the  governor,  and  jest  as  long  as  you  don't 
mean  it,  it's  all  right,"  and  he  grinned;  but  there  was 
an  absence  of  mirth  from  his  features.    Plainly,  he  was 

uneasy. 

"But  I  do  mean  it,  Mr.  Anderson,"  Peggy  persisted. 
"I  mean  it  with  all  my  heart." 

Anderson  was  frightened  now.  He  was  seized  with 
what  the  old  deer  hunters  called  "buck  aguer." 

His  teeth  chattered,  and  his  lips  were  dry.  He  well 
knew  that  if  Peggy  made  up  her  mind  to  have  him  run 
for  the  Legislature  there  was  no  escape.  "See  here, 
folks,  this  is  gettin'  serious.  It  all  comes  from  that 
fool  talk  I  had  down  at  the  court  house  that  time  when 
that  slick  Lawyer  Fuller  was  draggin'  me.  I  jist  shot 
him  a  little  hot  air.     O'  course,  I  didn't  mean  it." 

"I  remember  how  the  crowd  cheered  and  shouted 


242  PuggyWare 

'hurrah  for  Anderson !'  "  said  Peggy,  ''and  I  am  sure 
that  you  can  be  triumphantly  elected." 

"Bully!  Fine!"  exclaimed  the  governor.  "Captain 
Anderson,  the  gallant  ex-Confederate  soldier,  the  ex- 
king  of  the  Wild  Catters,  the  man  who  fell  beside  the 
beloved  Captain  Lee,  whose  granddaughter  is  the  presi- 
dent of  the  Peggy  Ware  School.  It  will  be  irresist- 
ible. You  will  be  elected,  and  will  be  the  most  impos- 
ing figure  in  the  Legislature.  You  will  be  the  only 
ex-Confederate  there.  When  you  make  your  plea  for 
a  donation  for  this  institution,  you  will  sweep  aside  all 
opposition." 

"I  ain't  got  no  edycation,  I  ain't  no  speaker,  I  ain't 
got  no  character.  They'll  prove  I'm  a  thief,  a  crook 
an'  the  bigges'  liar  in  ten  states,"  said  Anderson. 

"If  they  prove  all  that,  I  am  sure  you  will  be  elected," 
said  the  governor,  "for  everybody  knows  it  isn't  so. 
You  are  known  as  an  honest  man  who  always  made 
pure  whiskey,  and  you  quit  because  you  wanted  to,  and 
are  now  doing  more  for  our  dear  boys  and  girls  in  these 
mountains  than  any  other  man  in  the  State." 

"I  have  jest  decided  to  go  to  France  and  fight  fer 
my  country,"  said  Anderson.  "I  have  been  thinkin' 
about  it  sence  we  declared  war  with  Germany,  an'  I'm 
gwine  to  France  ef  they  will  take  me." 

The  governor  and  Peggy  laughed,  but  to  Anderson 
it  was  no  joke.  "I  feel  like  I  ought  to  go,"  he  con- 
tinued. "Ef  they  won't  let  me  fight,  I  kin  be  a 
stretcher  bearer  an'  carry  the  poor  fellers  off  the  field 
when  they  are  shot  down.  I  am  ashamed  of  these 
slackers  who  are  dodgin'  the  draft,  layin'  out  in  these 
bluffs  an'  gorges,  sayin'  they  ain't  gwine  to  go,  that 
they  will  fight  Uncle  Sam  afore  they  will  fight  Ger- 
many. It  makes  my  blood  hot,  an'  ef  somebody  will 
roun'  'em  up  fer  me  an'  let  me  take  'em  one  at  a  time, 


The  Slacker's  Rendezvous  243 

I'll  lick  the  devil  out  of  every  one  of  them;  an'  when  I 
git  through,  they'll  be  pow'ful  glad  to  put  on  Uncle 
Sam's  uniform  an'  go  over  thare."  The  old  man  stood 
like  a  giant,  and  the  Governor  said  admiringly : 

"Anderson,  I  don't  doubt  that  you  could  lick  every 
mother's  son  of  them,  if  you  had  a  little  breathing  spell 
in  between  times.  In  fact.  I  don't  think  there  is  one  of 
them  that  would  face  you  if  he  could  see  you  now.  I 
have  heard  of  what  happened  to  Bud  Whitman,  the 
leader  of  the  slackers,  when  he  led  a  mob  to  lynch  old 
Simon. 

"Uncle  Sam  will  take  care  of  these  slackers,  and 
there  are  plenty  of  young  men  to  do  our  fighting  over 
in  France.  It  is  vastly  more  important  that  you  should 
remain  here  and  help  carry  on  this  work  that  has  been 
so  abundantly  blessed  by  God.  The  big  opportunity 
of  your  life  has  come  in  your  old  age,  and  you  must  not 
shrink  from  your  duty." 

"I'd  ruther  fight  every  slacker  now  hidin'  in  Bucks 
Pocket,  an'  then  go  to  France  an'  fight  'til  we  lick  the 
stuffin'  outen  Germany,  than  to  run  fer  the  Legislatur, 
an'  have  to  meet  that  Jim  Crow  lawyer  on  the  stump." 

"You  are  not  afraid  of  him,  are  you,  Anderson?" 
banteringly  asked  the  governor.  He  had  hardly  spoken 
the  words  until  he  regretted  them.  The  old  man  was 
hurt.  He  shrank  as  if  the  governor  had  struck  him, 
and  his  eyes  showed  the  pain  dealt  his  pride. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  Mr.  Anderson,"  exclaimed  the 
governor,  taking  the  big  man's  hand  in  his.  "I  just 
wanted  to  arouse  you  to  a  full  sense  of  your  duty." 

"It's  all  right,  governor.  I  understand  better  than 
you  do.  They  ain't  but  one  thing  in  this  world  or  the 
next  that  I'm  afeard  of,  an'  that's  Cliff  Anderson." 

"There  is  no  hurry  about  coming  to  a  conclusion, 
Mr.  Anderson,"  said  Peggy.     "Take  your  time  to  think 


244  Peggy    Ware 

it  over,  and  you'll  know  what's  right,  and  do  it,  for  you 
are  the  same  brave  soldier  that  you  were  the  day  you 
fell  beside  my  grandfather,  twenty  paces  in  advance 
of  his  men." 

They  fell  to  talking  about  the  draft  evaders,  for  it 
had  come  to  be  a  serious  question.  About  a  hundred 
of  them,  it  was  reported,  were  now  hidden  in  Bucks 
Pocket.  They  had  come  from  the  surrounding  coun- 
ties and  concentrated  in  this  Pocket,  whose  natural 
fortifications  made  it  extremely  dangerous  for  the 
officers  to  attempt  an  entrance.  But  a  short  time  pre- 
viously the  sheriff  of  the  county  had  been  seriously 
wounded,  and  two  of  his  deputies  killed,  in  an  attempt 
to  arrest  some  of  the  draft  dodgers. 

Now  they  had  rendezvoused  in  this  place  where  one 
man  could  defend  himself  against  a  score,  if  secreted 
at  some  vantage  point.  They  were  provided  with  guns 
and  ammunition,  and  provisions  for  a  long  siege.  The 
"slackers'  army,"  as*  it  was  called,  was  made  up  of 
young  mountaineers,  wholly  illiterate,  with  no  idea  of 
patriotism  or  love  of  country.  They  were  not  cowards, 
they  were  ignorant.  Hence  they  were  easily  led  by 
men  like  Bud  Whitman  and  Bill  Kellet,  both  bullies, 
but  cowards  at  heart.  These  leaders  pretended  to  be 
German  sympathizers,  but  this  was  a  lame  excuse  for 
their  own  cowardly,  unpatriotic  conduct. 

Peggy  had  been  outspoken  in  her  views,  and  had 
been  active  in  such  war  work  as  was  possible  in  this 
remote  corner.  All  the  old  women  were  knitting  for 
the  boys  over  there,  and  all  the  older  boys  in  school 
had  volunteered  to  serve  whenever  their  government 
could  use  them. 

The  Stars  and  stripes  floated  proudly  over  every 
building  on  the  school  grounds,  and  Bud  Whitman  had 
sent  word  to  Peggy  that  unless  the  flags  were  taken 


The  Slacker's  Rendezvous  245 

down  he  and  his  men  would  burn  every  house,  includ- 
ing Wilbur  Ware's  and  Cliff  Anderson's.  She  had 
ignored  these  threats,  but  in  her  heart  there  was  a 
dread  that  caused  her  many  a  sleepless  night. 

Doctor  Weston,  Anderson,  and  Ware  wanted  to  in- 
tercede with  the  men,  but  were  dissuaded  by  Peggy. 
She  knew  the  temper  of  the  leaders,  the  ignorance  of 
the  men,  and  in  the  inflamed  condition  of  their  minds, 
she  feared  for  the  result. 

"I  am  the  one  to  go  to  them,"  she  said;  but  a  chorus 
of  "No's"  greeted  this  declaration. 

"I  am  leaving  tomorrow,"  said  the  governor,  "and  I 
will  seek  an  interview  with  the  men  before  I  go." 

"It  would  be  madness,  governor,"  said  Peggy.  "They 
would  kill  you,  just  as  they  did  the  deputy  sheriffs. 
We  must  wait  the  psychological  moment.  When  it 
comes,  God  will  direct  us  what  to  do." 

"Woman,  great  is  thy  faith,"  reverently  exclaimed 
the  governor.  "I  defer  to  your  inner  vision,  that 
transcends  my  judgment  and  reason." 

*  *  ***** 

About  a  week  after  the  governor  left,  Peggy  received 
a  letter  from  him,  stating  that  he  had  represented  to 
the  military  authorities  that  the  civil  officers  could  not 
cope  with  the  organized  band  of  slackers  now  hiding  in 
Bucks  Pocket,  and  had  been  informed  that  a  company 
of  United  States  soldiers  would  be  dispatched  to  the 
scene  to  round  up  the  "slacker  army."  He  expressed 
the  hope  that  Peggy  would  co-operate  with  the  gov- 
ernment and  prevent  bloodshed,  if  possible. 

In  a  short  time  reports  were  filtering  in  by  "grape- 
vine" telegraph  that  a  company  of  soldiers  had  already 
arrived  and  that  it  was  encamped  on  the  mountain 
just  above  the  "mouth"  of  the  Pocket.  Through  this 
opening  between  the  giant  walls  of  rocks  there  now  ran 


246  Peggy    Ware 

a  splendid  road,  where  there  was  formerly  an  irregular 
trail.  It  would  have  been  quite  easy  for  the  lieutenant 
in  charge  of  the  soldiers  to  have  marched  his  men  down 
this  road,  but  few  of  them  would  have  reached  their 
journey's  end  alive. 

On  either  side,  high  up  among  the  overhanging  cliffs, 
Bud  Whitman  had  posted  his  sharpshooters,  men  who 
could  shoot  a  squirrel's  ear  off  in  the  top  of  the  tallest 
oak  that  grew  in  Bucks  Pocket,  without  killing  the 
squirrel.  If  one  of  them  ever  got  a  "bead"  on  a  sol- 
dier, it  meant  certain  death. 

Since  the  coming  of  the  soldiers,  Whitman  had 
issued  orders  that  no  one  be  allowed  to  leave  the 
Pocket  under  pain  of  being  shot  by  one  of  his  sentries. 
He  told  his  men  that  the  soldiers  dare  not  fire  on 
them,  that  their  coming  was  all  a  bluff,  and  that  if  they 
did  not  voluntarily  surrender,  there  would  be  no  dan- 
ger. He  assured  his  followers  that  no  one  had  a  right 
to  shoot  in  making  an  arrest,  but  the  sheriff,  and  by 
these  false  statements  he  reassured  his  men,  who  were 
becoming  afraid  they  had  carried  their  resistance  too 
far. 

Peggy,  her  father,  Anderson,  and  Doctor  Weston, 
all  realized  that  the  crisis  had  been  reached,  and  that, 
if  possible,  the  commander  of  the  soldiers  should  be 
communicated  with.  They  knew  the  great  danger  and 
risk  in  attempting  to  do  so.  Each  of  the  men  volun- 
teered to  undertake  the  task,  but  Peggy  protested. 

Simon,  who  had  listened  to  the  conversation,  begged 
to  be  allowed  to  go.  "I  ain't  got  much  longer  to  stay 
heah,  nohow,"  he  said.  "An'  I  kin  sneak  out  tonight 
an'  see  de  Cap'n,  an'  ef  dey  git  me  dey  won't  cheat 
me  outen  many  yeahs." 

"My  good  old  Simon,  I  could  not  let  you  go,"  said 
Peggy.     "I'd  rather  go  myself,  but,  of  course,  it  would 


The;  Slacker's  Rendezvous  247 

not  be  quite  the  proper  thing  for  a  lady  to  do,"  and 
she  laughed  lightly. 

"I  have  a  brilliant  idea,"  she  went  on  animatedly. 
"I  know  just  the  person  for  a  messenger,  one  that  will 
not  be  suspected  by  the  slackers." 

Almost  in  the  same  breath,  all  of  them  exclaimed : 
"Who  is  it?" 

"Now  you  are  inquisitive,"  she  replied.  "I  cannot 
tell  you  until  after  I  have  interviewed  the  person  I 
have  in  mind.  Please  do  not  question  me  further,  and 
I  will  tell  you  all  about  it  tonight.  In  the  meantime, 
I  am  going  up  to  Mr.  Anderson's  to  see  Ruth,"  and 
before  they  realized  it  she  was  gone,  leaving  them  won- 
dering what  Peggy  had  in  mind. 

These  strong  men  had  learned  to  let  Peggy  have  her 
way  in  all  things.  Not  that  she  was  willful  or  head- 
strong; far  from  it.  She  often  sought  Simon's  advice, 
and  welcomed  suggestions  from  everyone,  even  the 
humblest. 

After  she  was  gone,  the  men  talked  about  the  threats 
of  Bud  Whitman  to  burn  the  school  buildings  and  the 
houses  of  Ware  and  Anderson.  While  they  were 
earnestly  discussing  the  danger,  one  of  Peggy's  pupils 
came  in,  breathless.  "Where  is  Miss  Peggy?"  he 
asked,  excitedly. 

"What  is  it,  son?"  gently  inquired  Peggy's  father. 

"I  don't  want  to  tell  nobody  but  her,"  he  exclaimed. 

Wilbur  Ware  explained  to  him  that  Peggy  was  gone, 
and  that  he  was  Peggy's  father,  and  urged  him  to  con- 
fide in  him. 

"I  know  you  are  her  father,  all  right,"  he  said,  "and 
I'll  tell  you,  but  I'd  ruther  tell  her." 

"Of  course,  you  would,  son,  and  I  don't  blame  you ; 
but  your  message  will  be  safe  with  us,"  and  Peggy's 
father  patted  him  kindly  on  the  head. 


248  Peggy    Ware 

Thus  encouraged,  he  told  them  that  he  had  been 
fishing  up  on  the  creek,  when  he  saw  Bud  Whitman 
and  Bill  Kellett  come  down  the  trail,  and  sit  down  at 
the  root  of  a  big  tree  and  begin  to  talk.  "As  they 
talked,"  he  said,  "they  kept  pointing  toward  the  school 
house,  and  I  got  curious  to  know  what  they  were  talk- 
ing about,  so  I  crawled  up  behind  the  tree  from  where 
they  sat,  and  I  heard  Bud  Whitman  say,  'We'll  burn 
her  down  tonight,  Bill,  and  while  everybody  is  excited, 
you  and  I  will  slip  out  of  the  Pocket,  git  to  the  river, 
steal  a  canoe,  and  cross  over  to  the  other  side  of  the 
river,  and  leave  the  other  fellers  to  take  care  of  them- 
selves. It's  gittin'  too  hot  here  for  us,  but  before  I  go 
I  want  to  do  all  I  can  to  that  d — d  Anderson-Ware 
bunch." 

"I  didn't  want  to  hear  any  more,"  he  said,  "but 
crawled  away  and  beat  it  here  to  tell  Miss  Peggy." 

"I  want  to  thank  yo.u,  little  man,"  said  Wrilbur  Ware. 
"You  are  a  brave  chap,  and  I'll  tell  Peggy  all  about  it," 
and  again  he  placed  his  hand  lovingly  on  the  boy's 
head. 

"I  wish  Peggy  were  here,"  anxiously  exclaimed  her 
father.     "I  always  feel  the  need  of  her  in  a  crisis." 

"So  do  we  all,"  said  Doctor  Weston.  "She  is  the 
soul  of  everything." 

"When  she's  aroun',"  said  Anderson,  "I  alius  feel 
that  nuthin'  bad  can  happen.     I  wonder  why  it  is?" 

"It's  becase  she  trusts  de  Lawd,  when  de  rest  ob  us 
des  thinks  we  do,"  added  Simon. 

Hastily  they  planned  to  guard  the  school  buildings, 
as  well  as  Ware's  and  Anderson's  homes.  They  felt 
sure  that  Whitman  and  Kellet  would  not  take  any  of 
their  comrades  into  their  confidence.  Therefore  they 
would  have  but  two  to  deal  with. 


The  Slacker's  Rendezvous  249 

Peggy  was  but  a  short  time  in  reaching  Anderson's 
home.  Mrs.  Anderson  was  not  there,  and  there  was 
no  one  to  overhear  what  she  told  Ruth. 

Before  she  had  finished,  Ruth's  excitement  was 
greater  than  Peggy's.  "I'll  go  with  you,  Peggy,  of 
course,  I  will.  The  cowards  won't  dare  shoot  us.  I 
am  not  afraid  of  the  whole  bunch."  Ruth  drew  herself 
up  proudly,  and  if  the  slackers  could  have  seen  her, 
they  would  not  have  doubted  her  fearlessness. 

Swiftly  they  stole  away  from  the  house,  and  clearing, 
anxious  that  no  one  should  know  their  secret  mission. 
Once  out  of  danger  of  discovery  by  their  friends,  the 
girls  threw  off  all  restraint,  and  walked  the  road  lead- 
ing up  the  mountain  side  as  carelessly  as  if  they  were 
going  on  a  picnic. 

A  sort  of  wild  recklessness  seized  Ruth,  and  at  inter- 
vals, she  would  shout:  "It's  just  me  and  Peggy,  Mr. 
Slackers.  Why  don't  you  shoot?"  Then  she  would 
burst  out  into  song : 

"If  a  body  meet  a  body, 
Comin'  through  the  rye" 

The  very  audacity  of  the  thing  paralyzed  the  activi- 
ties of  the  sharpshooters,  and  not  a  man  of  them 
showed  his  face  or  raised  a  gun.  It  is  doubtful  if  out 
of  all  that  hundred  draft  dodgers  there  were  more  than 
two  who  would  have  harmed  these  beautiful  girls,  and 
those  two  were  the  cowardly  leaders  who  were  now 
plotting  to  leave  their  ignorant  followers  in  the  lurch. 

As  they  neared  the  top  of  the  defile  they  began  to 
talk.  Ruth  said :  "Peggy,  I  wish  you  were  my  sister. 
Do  you  know,  I  sometimes  feel  just  like  we  were  sis- 
ters? It's  because  you  have  done  so  much  for  me,  I 
suppose,  and  you  are  such  a  wonderful  girl,  and  I  love 
you  so. 


250  Peggy    Ware 

"Old  Simon  told  me  once  that  I  am  just  like  your 
mother  when  she  was  my  age.  I  am  so  glad  of  it,  for 
it  will  make  you  love  me  all  the  more." 

"I  could  not  love  you  better,  Ruth,  if  you  were  my 
own  sister,"  warmly  exclaimed  Peggy.  "I  have  no- 
ticed a  remarkable  resemblance  to  my  mother,  also,  and 
I  am  glad  you  look  like  her,  for  I  thought  her  the  most 
beautiful  woman  in  the  world." 

"I  wonder  why  Doctor  Weston  loved  me,  Peggy, 
instead  of  you?  You  are  so  smart,  so  beautiful,  and 
so  sweet,  and  I  am  such  an  ignorant  thing." 

If  Ruth  had  not  been  so  self-centered  at  the  moment, 
she  could  not  have  failed  to  observe  Peggy  as  she 
threw  out  her  hand  as  if  she  were  grasping  at  some- 
thing, to  prevent  herself  from  falling.  She  might  have 
seen  a  face  as  white  as  it  will  be  when  Peggy  closes 
her  eyes  in  the  last  long  sleep.  But  Ruth  did  not  see, 
and  consequently  did  not  know  that  she  had  shot 
another  thorn  into  Peggy's  wounded  heart. 

"Oh,  that's  easy  to  understand,  Ruth,"  said  Peggy, 
making  a  brave  effort  at  gaiety.  "If  I  were  a  man,  I 
would  always  choose  you,  and  I  think  most  men 
would." 

"I  don't  see  how  you  kept  from  falling  in  love  with 
Doctor  Weston,  Peggy,  for  he  is  such  a  noble  man," 
declared  Ruth,  tossing  her  head  proudly  at  the  thought 
of  soon  possessing  her  "prince,"  as  she  frequently 
called  him. 

"And  suppose  I  did  love  him,  Ruth,  then  what?"  said 
Peggy,  smiling  enigmatically. 

"I  would  be  so  sorry  for  you,  Peggy,  that  it  would 
almost  kill  me.     But  I  am  so  glad  you  don't." 

"I  am  glad,  too,  Ruth,"  and  Peggy  brushed  the  tears 
from  her  eyes  as  Ruth  was  looking  toward  the  soldiers' 


The  Slacker's  Rendezvous  251 

encampment,  that  had  just  that  moment  come  into  the 
range  of  their  vision. 

At  their  request,  the  soldier  on  sentry  duty  con- 
ducted them  to  the  lieutenant's  tent.  He  had  heard  of 
the  "Peggy  Ware  School,"  and  of  its  president,  and  was 
much  flattered  to  have  her  call  with  Ruth,  but  anxious 
about  their  safety. 

Peggy  explained  to  him  the  situation  and  the  neces- 
sity for  her  immediate  return  to  Bucks  Pocket. 

Lieutenant  Johnson  told  her  that  the  Pocket  was 
surrounded  with  machine  guns  stationed  at  all  vantage 
points,  and  that  unless  the  slackers  surrendered  he 
would  shell  them  out,  taking  good  care  not  to  fire  on 
the  school  buildings  or  the  residences  of  any  of  the 
inhabitants. 

After  discussing  the  situation  fully,  Lieutenant  John- 
son wrote  a  note  to  the  draft  evaders,  urging  them  to 
surrender  peacefully  and  avoid  bloodshed,  telling  them 
that  they  could  not  hope  to  escape.  He  informed  them 
that  if  they  did  not  hoist  the  white  flag  of  surrender  by 
nine  o'clock  the  following  morning  from  a  high  peak 
that  stood  out  from  the  others  like  a  lone  sentinel,  he 
would  give  the  order  to  his  gunners  to  fire. 

Peggy  undertook  to  deliver  the  note,  and  she  and 
Ruth  started  on  their  return  journey,  leaving  the  hand- 
some young  lieutenant  waving  adieu  as  they  disap- 
peared around  an  abrupt  curve  in  the  road. 

"Halt  thare,  gals,"  drawled  a  tall  young  mountaineer, 
as  he  stepped  from  behind  a  huge  rock.  "Don't  you 
all  know  weuns  got  orders  to  shoot  anybody  passin' 
erlong  this  road?" 

"Yes,  I  know  it,  Billy  Wooten,  and  I  know  you 
wouldn't  shoot  me  an'  Peggy  to  save  your  own  life," 
said  Ruth,  looking  at  him  fearlessly. 


252  Peggy    Ware 

"Wall,  I  guess  yore  right  thare,"  he  said,  "becase 
Bud  Whitman  shore  would  shoot  me  ef  he  knowed  I 
let  you  all  go  out  to  the  soldiers'  camp.  You  wus 
a-carryin'  on  so  when  you  passed,  it  kinder  locoed  me, 
I  recon,  an'  I  said  I'd  jest  wait  an'  git  you  when  you 
come  back.     Now  what  you  all  up  to,  anyway?" 

Peggy  told  him  the  whole  story  frankly,  and  asked 
him  to  carry  the  note  to  the  slacker's  camp. 

"Ef  you  all  will  scoot  along,  I'll  take  it,  an'  tell  'em 
some  one  drapped  it  over  the  bluff  an'  I  picked  it  up. 
Ef  I  tole  'em  the  truth,  my  hide  wouldn't  hold  shucks." 

Peggy  urged  him  to  use  his  influence  with  the  men 
to  surrender  without  a  fight,  telling  him  that  he  owed  a 
duty  to  his  country.  She  grew  eloquent  as  she  talked 
to  him,  and  it  was  evident  that  he  had  already  sur- 
rendered to  her. 

"Ef  you  could  talk  to  all  the  boys  like  you  have  to 
me,  they  would  all  give  up,  all  'cept  Whitman  an' 
Kellett.     I  don't  think  they  would. 

"I'm  ready  to  right  now,  but  I  ain't  no  quitter  an' 
I'll  go  with  the  gang.  But  I  see  you're  right.  I  hadn't 
never  thought  about  it  that  way.  I  ain't  afeard  to 
fight.  None  of  the  boys  is  cowards.  They  are  jest 
ignorant,  like  me.  I  shore  do  wish  you  could  talk  to 
'em,"  said  he  looking  earnestly  at  Peggy  from  his  wist- 
ful, honest  eyes. 

"Perhaps  I  will,"  said  Peggy,  and  she  and  Ruth  were 
gone  before  he  could  reply. 

"She's  shore  the  finest  gal  I  ever  seed,"  he  muttered 
to  himself,  as  he  returned  to  his  hiding  place  behind  the 
rock,  to  remain  until  his  comrade  should  come  to 
relieve  him. 


Chapter  Eighteen 
THE  SURRENDER 

WHEN  Peggy  returned  home,  she  found  prepara- 
tions well  under  way  for  guarding  against 
the  incendiarism  threatened  by  Whitman  and 
Kellett.  Her  father  told  her  of  the  conversation  over- 
heard by  one  of  her  pupils,  and  reported  to  him. 

Winslow  and  Cranston  had  volunteered  to  watch 
during  the  night.  "If  we  could  film  things  as  they 
take  place  tonight,  it  would  be  fine,"  said  Cranston,  his 
professional  instinct  asserting  itself  even  in  the  midst 
of  the  danger  that  threatened  them.  "We  will  have 
everything  ready,  and  if  they  do  fire  any  of  the  build- 
ings, we  will  'shoot  the  scene.'  Of  course,  I  sincerely 
hope  that  we  won't  have  the  opportunity. 

"If  there  is  a  fight  tomorrow  between  the  soldiers 
and  slackers,  we  will  get  it,"  said  Winslow. 

"Suppose  the  slackers  surrender,"  said  Peggy. 
"Won't  that  make  a  better  scene  than  if  there  is  a 
fight?" 

"I  think  it  will  be  much  bigger,  Miss  Ware,"  said 
Cranston,  "for  it  will  typify  a  yielding  to  the  demands 
of  patriotism." 

"Then  I  advise  you  to  get  ready  to  film  the  triumph 
of  law  and  order,  for  I  feel  that  the  draft  evaders  will 
surrender,"  said  Peggy. 

"Miss  Ware  always  knows,  while  we  only  hope," 
said  Cranston. 

A  number  of  hardy  mountain  men,  some  of  whom 

253 


254  Peggy    Ware 

had  fought  with  Anderson  in  the  war  between  the 
States,  were  ready  to  take  their  places  for  the  night's 
vigil.  When  Peggy  looked  into  their  cold,  determined 
eyes,  and  saw  them  grip  their  squirrel  rifles,  she  knew 
that  it  boded  no  good  to  Whitman  and  Kellett. 

"Please,  don't  kill  them,  men,"  she  pleaded.  "I  feel 
that  I  would  never  get  over  it,  and  Bucks  Pocket  would 
never  be  the  same  to  me  again  if  you  shed  their  blood." 

"For  your  sake,  Miss  Peggy,  we  won't  shoot  unless 
they  make  us,  but  we  won't  be  very  hard  to  make,  will 
we  boys?"  said  Anderson,  looking  into  the  faces  of 
the  silent  men  who  were  receiving  their  final  instruc- 
tions. 

"My  gun's  pow'ful  easy  on  trigger,  Cap.  I  keep  her 
that  way,  an'  ef  I  git  a  bead  on  Bud  Whitman  an  'git 
skeered,  an'  my  han'  shakes  a  little,  ol'  'Betsy'  is  liable 
to  go  off,"  so  spoke  an  old  Wild  Catter  with  a  cold- 
blooded chuckle. 

"Please,  please,  be 'careful,"  said  Peggy,  laying  her 
hand  gently  on  the  shoulder  of  the  speaker,  who  was 
known  as  a  desperate  man,  and  on  whose  gun  stock 
there  were  half  a  dozen  notches,  each  representing  an 
enemy  he  had  sent  into  the  next  world. 

"All  right,  little  girl,  I'll  try  an'  not  git  skeered," 
said  he,  and  a  softer  light  came  into  his  eyes  as  his 
heart  glowed  beneath  the  touch  of  Peggy's  magnetic 
hand. 

Anderson,  Ware  and  Doctor  Weston,  with  some  of 
the  "straight  shooters"  were  posted  around  the  school 
buildings.  Winslow  and  Cranston  took  charge  of  the 
protection  of  the  Ware  and  Anderson  homes,  assisted 
by  men  of  undoubted  courage  and  loyalty.  The  boys 
and  girls  at  the  dormitories  were  in  ignorance  of  the 
impending  danger,  and  retired  at  the  usual  hour. 

Ralph  and  Virginia  sensed  trouble,  and  refused  to 


The  Surrender  255 

go  to  bed  until  Peggy  had  retold  them  many  of  the 
stories  she  had  been  telling  them  from  their  earliest 
recollection.  Finally  the  sleepy  heads  began  to  nod, 
and  Peggy  kissed  them  goodnight  and  put  them  to  bed. 

She  stole  up  to  her  attic  room,  put  on  a  pair  of 
heavy  walking  shoes,  a  short,  thick  skirt,  and  heavy 
wrap  that  she  could  turn  up  covering  her  head  and 
hiding  her  features.  Reverently  she  knelt  for  a  few 
moments,  communing  with  Him  who  had  miraculously 
guided  her  feet  along  an  enchanted  highway. 

She  arose,  her  face  calm  and  serene,  extinguished  the 
lamp,  and  softly  descended  the  stairs,  stood  by  the 
trundle  bed,  looking  long  and  earnestly  at  the  peace- 
ful faces  of  Ralph  and  Virginia,  kissed  them  once 
more,  and  went  out  into  the  darkness. 

She  peered  cautiously  around,  and  seeing  no  one,  she 
walked  as  lightly  as  a  cat  to  Hero's  kennel,  unfast- 
ened the  chain  from  his  collar,  patted  him  on  the  head, 
whispering,  "Come  with  me,  Hero,  and  don't  make  one 
bit  of  noise." 

The  men  were  all  gone,  and  no  one  had  heard  or 
seen  her,  as  Peggy  thought. 

In  this  she  was  mistaken.  There  was  one  whose 
love  had  sharpened  his  eyesight,  and  given  him  a  wis- 
dom that  comes  to  those  who  dwell  much  in  the  si- 
lence. Simon  did  not  have  to  be  told  things.  Like 
Peggy,  he  just  knew  them.  When  she  released  Hero, 
and  started  toward  the  slackers'  camp,  Simon  was  but 
a  few  paces  behind  her,  and  his  steps  fell  as  lightly  as 
the  dew.  Had  not  his  ancestors  for  countless  ages, 
stalked  the  wild  beasts  in  the  jungles  of  Africa,  and 
now  love  added  wings  to  the  old  man's  feet,  and  he 
could  almost  have  walked  on  the  air  for  Peggy's  sake. 
He  knew  that  his  beloved  Mistress  would  not  allow 
him  to  accompany  her,  but  he  was  willing  to  incur  her 


256  Peggy    Ware 

displeasure  if  needs  be,  to  be  near  her,  in  case  of 
danger. 

Peggy  did  not  follow  the  road,  but  slipped  through 
the  dense  forest  like  a  shadow,  Hero  at  her  side,  her 
hand  resting  on  his  head. 

She  had  reached  the  creek  and  crossed  it  on  a  big 
foot  log  that  spanned  the  torrential  stream.  The  roar 
of  the  water  could  be  heard  for  a  long  distance,  and 
there  was  no  danger  of  anyone  hearing  her  footfalls 
now.  As  she  stepped  from  the  foot  log  on  the  oppo- 
site bank  of  the  stream,  she  was  seized  by  rough  hands, 
and  before  she  could  make  an  outcry,  a  handkerchief 
was  thrust  into  her  mouth. 

Hero,  with  a  savage  growl,  sprang  to  the  throat  of 
Bud  Whitman,  for  it  was  he  who  had  seized  Peggy ; 
but  just  as  he  would  have  fastened  his  teeth  in  a  death 
grip,  Bill  Kellett  struck  him  a  cruel  blow  on  the  head 
with  the  stock  of  his  gun,  and  Hero,  stunned,  fell  at 
Peggy's  feet,  where  he  lay  quivering  and  helpless. 

Simon,  who  was  close  behind  Peggy,  had  cautiously 
felt  his  way  along  the  foot  log,  and  just  as  Hero  was 
felled,  he  reached  the  spot  where  Whitman  and  Kel- 
lett were  now  tying  Peggy  with  a  rope.  Like  one  of 
his  ancestors  of  old,  springing  on  a  tiger  to  vanquish 
it  in  a  hand  to  hand  conflict,  the  old  man  leaped  on 
Bud  Whitman,  and  bore  him  to  the  ground.  He  was 
fastening  his  teeth  in  Whitman's  shoulder  and  his 
fingers  in  his  throat,  when  a  death-dealing  stroke  from 
Kellett's  gun  caused  his  jaws  to  relax,  his  hand  to  fall 
nerveless,  and  the  old  darky  tumbled  over  in  a  heap, 
lifeless  to  all  appearances. 

"Dam  him,  we  got  him  at  last,"  said  Whitman,  still 
panting  from  his  struggle  with  Simon. 

"What  are  you  gwine  to  do  with  the  gal?"  asked 


The  Surrender  257 

Kellett.    "She's  on  her  way  now  to  the  camp  to  beg  the 
fellers  to  surrender." 

"It's  a  good  time  to  git  rid  of  her,  too,"  said  Whit- 
man. "She's  the  cause  of  all  this  highfalootin'  doin's 
here  in  Bucks  Pocket.  Ef  it  hadn't  been  fer  her,  I'd 
a  got  Ruth  Anderson,  an'  I'd  ruther  have  her  than  any 
gal  I  ever  seed,  but  when  Peggy  Ware  came  to  the 
Pocket,  Ruth  and  her  daddy  and  mammy  tuk  the  big- 
head,  an'  most  everybody  else  in  Bucks  Pocket  turned 
dam  fools,  an'  all  on  account  o'  her,"  and  he  indi- 
cated Peggy,  who  was  lying  on  the  ground,  bound 
hand  and  foot. 

"Thare's  a  canoe  right  down  thare."  said  Bud. 
"We'll  put  her  in  it,  an'  turn  her  loose." 

"Good  God,  Bud,  you  ain't  gwine  to  do  that,  are 
you?"  exclaimed  Kellett.  "Don't  you  know  she'll  go 
over  the  falls  and  drown?" 

"I  don't  give  a  dam,"  said  Whitman,  "that's  jest 
what  I  want.  Take  holt  o'  her  feet,  an'  help  me  tote 
her." 

Afraid  to  disobey,  Kellett  did  as  he  was  commanded. 
As  they  descended  the  precipitous  bank,  Hero  began 
to  show  signs  of  life,  and  now  staggered  to  his  feet, 
and  commenced  sniffing  the  air  in  a  dazed  sort  of  way. 

"It  would  be  hell  ef  we  fell  in,  Bud,"  said  Kellett. 
"These  rocks  is  pow'ful  slippery,  an'  ef  a  feller's  foot 
slipped  an'  he  went  in,  it  would  be  all  night  with  him." 

"They  ain't  no  danger,  you  dam  fool,  ef  you  don't 
lose  your  head,"  Whitman  replied  roughly. 

With  much  difficulty  they  placed  Peggy  in  the  bot- 
tom of  the  canoe  that  had  been  hewn  from  a  big  tree, 
and  Whitman  broke  the  lock  with  a  stone. 

"I'll  give  her  a  big  shove,"  he  said,  "an'  send  her  on 
the  way  to  hell  a-scootin'." 


258  Peggy    Ware 

The  canoe  shot  out  into  the  raging  torent,  so  swift 
that  no  mortal  man  could  swim  across  it. 

Hero,  recovering  from  the  blow,  followed  the  foot- 
steps of  Whitman  and  Kellett  down  the  treacherous 
bluff,  and  reached  the  brink  of  the  stream  as  Whit- 
man was  bending  over  to  shove  the  canoe  out  from 
the  bank.  Springing  high  in  the  air,  he  leaped  for 
the  canoe,  striking  Whitman  as  he  passed  over  his 
shoulders,  the  blow  causing  Bud  to  lose  his  balance. 

For  a  moment  Kellett  saw  Whitman  reel  as  if  he  had 
lost  his  balance.  "Ketch  me,  Bill !"  he  shouted,  but  it 
was  no  use.  The  boulder  on  which  he  was  standing 
had  been  loosened,  and  the  more  he  tried  to  balance 
himself  on  the  rolling  stone,  the  greater  the  mo- 
mentum. 

"Ketch  me,  Bill !  Fer  God's  sake,  ketch  me !"  rang 
wildly  out  on  the  night  as  Bud  Whitman,  his  eyes 
starting  from  their  sockets,  plunged  headlong  into  the 
whirling  waters  of  Sauty  Creek.  Once  he  rose  to  the 
surface  for  a  moment,  and  Kellett  heard  him  shriek  : 
"Ketch  me,  Bill!    Ketch  me !" 

As  he  fled  through  the  forest,  that  cry  of  "Ketch  me, 
Bill !"  rang  in  his  ears  long  after  Bud  Whitman  lay  on 
the  bottom  of  Sauty  Creek,  below  the  falls  where  he 
had  intended  to  send  Peggy  to  certain  destruction. 

The  distance  from  the  bank  was  too  far  for  the 
faithful  dog  to  cover,  and  his  body  sank  into  the  water, 
but  with  his  fore  feet  planted  in  the  canoe,  he  began 
a  battle  for  life.  As  the  frail  craft  shot  down  the 
stream,  trembling  like  a  shell  as  it  leaped  from  cascade 
to  cascade,  Hero  slowly  pulled  his  body  into  it,  where 
he  lay  exhausted  from  his  struggle. 

Doctor  Weston,  who  was  stationed  near  the  place 
spanned  by  the  foot  log,  heard  Whitman's  cry  as  he 
plunged  into  the   stream,  and  before   the   canoe   had 


The  Surrender  259 

disappeared  from  view,  he  reached  the  spot.  In  the 
pale  moonlight,  he  could  discern  the  dog  holding  on  to 
the  stern  with  grim  determination,  and  he  intuitively 
knew  that  Peggy  was  lying  in  the  bottom.  Without 
a  moment's  hesitation,  he  was  racing  along  the  bank 
of  the  creek,  leaping  boulders  and  fallen  trees.  He 
knew  a  place  a  half  mile  below  where  another  foot- 
log  spanned  the  stream.  If  he  could  reach  it  ahead  of 
the  wildly  dashing  canoe,  he  could  leap  from  the  log, 
and  perhaps  land  in  it.  If  he  missed  it,  then  he  would 
sleep  beside  Bud  Whitman  at  the  foot  of  the  falls.  If 
he  landed  safely,  he  would  be  with  Peggy,  if  indeed 
she  were  in  the  bottom  of  the  canoe,  as  he  had  sur- 
mised. 

He  knew  that  he  could  not  save  her,  and  that  it 
meant  the  useless  sacrifice  of  his  own  life. 

Ruth's  face  rose  pleadingly  before  him,  but  his  pace 
never  slackened.  All  the  world  vanished,  and  he  saw 
nothing,  save  the  golden  head,  the  fathomless  eyes 
through  which  the  soul  of  Peggy  Ware  had  so  often 
looked  into  his  own  soul. 

Death  with  her  would  be  sweeter  than  life  with  all 
the  world  for  his  choosing.  In  the  supreme  moment, 
he  realized  that  he  loved  Peggy,  with  a  love  that  comes 
to  no  man  but  once. 

Why  had  he  not  known  it  before? 

How  sweet  it  would  be  to  die  with  Peggy  in  his 
arms,  although  Peggy  did  not  love  him.  Ah,  if  he 
could  die  and  save  Peggy !  The  world  needed  her,  and 
he  would  gladly  go  on  now.  and  wait  for  the  soul  of 
Peggy  Ware  after  her  work  was  done  in  this  world. 
How  wonderful  it  would  be  to  wait  over  there  in  the 
Summer  land,  watching  over  her,  in  her  schoolroom, 


260  Peggy    Ware 

in  her  Shrine  of  Silence,  yes,  in  her  attic  room,  whis- 
pering love  to  her  in  the  language  of  the  soul. 
*  *  *  *  *  *  * 

Yes,  thank  God,  he  was  in  time.  The  canoe  was  in 
the  middle  of  the  stream.  In  another  moment  it  would 
sweep  beneath  the  foot  log,  and  dash  onward  toward 
destruction.  If  he  leaped  one  moment  too  soon  or  one 
moment  too  late,  it  would  be  fatal.  If  he  failed  by  a 
hair's  breadth  to  land  in  the  bottom,  the  treacherous 
bark  would  overturn,  and  he  would  not  even  have  the 
joy  of  dying  with  Peggy  in  his  arms. 

He  stood  breathless,  poised  for  the  leap. 

"God  help  me,"  his  lips  spoke,  and  for  a  moment  his 
body  hung  in  the  air,  and  then  landed  squarely  in  the 
middle  of  the  trembling  canoe.  It  rocked  from  side  to 
side.  It  seemed  that  it  must  upset,  but  it  began  to 
rock  less  violently,  then  righted  itself,  and  plunged 
forward  on  its  mad  race  with  death. 

Hero  was  gnawing -at  the  cords  that  bound  Peggy. 
With  his  knife  Dr.  Weston  cut  the  thongs  that  lacer- 
ated her  flesh  and  took  her  in  his  arms. 

"It  is  I,  Dr.  Weston,"  he  said.  "We  are  rushing  to 
certain  death,  but  God  has  been  good  to  me,  and  has 
permitted  me  to  die  with  you." 

"Why  should  you  want  to  die  with  me,  Doctor 
Weston?     You  should  want  to  live  for  Ruth." 

"It  is  because  I  love  you,  Peggy,  darling,  with  a 
love  that  a  man  can  give  but  once  in  a  lifetime.  Death 
with  you  is  a  thousand  times  sweeter  than  life  with- 
out you." 

"My  own,  my  own  has  come  to  me,"  said  Peggy 
reverently.  Her  beautiful  head  nestled  on  his  shoulder, 
their  lips  met  in  one  long,  last  kiss  as  the  roar  of  the 
falls  they  were  now  fast  approaching,  thundered  in 
their  ears. 


The  Surrender  261 

"Peggy,  I  never  dreamed  you  loved  me,"  said  he. 
"How  long  have  you  loved  me?" 

"Since  the  first  night  you  lay  unconscious  after  your 
injury.  It  was  I  who  sat  by  your  side  and  held  your 
hand  the  long  night  through." 

"Why  did  you  never  tell  me,  dear?"  he  asked. 

"I  should  never  have  told  you,  and  would  have  car- 
ried my  love  hidden  in  my  heart  to  the  grave,  but  for 
the  certainty  of  death,"  she  said.  "Li  His  presence, 
the  soul  stands  naked,  and  as  my  secret  will  soon  be 
buried  from  mortal  eyes,  it  will  hurt  no  one  for  me 
to  confess  the  truth." 

"I  never  suspected  that  you  loved  me,  John.  Why 
did  you  never  tell  me?" 

"I  must  have  been  sleeping,  darling,"  he  said,  "for  I 
must  have  loved  you  all  the  while.  I  only  awoke  when 
I  saw  you  rushing  down  this  stream  to  your  death. 

"We  have  but  a  moment  more,  dear,"  said  Weston. 
"Let  me  hold  your  hand  as  you  did  mine  through  the 
night  while  my  soul  walked  amongst  the  shadows. 
And  now  a  last  good-bye  kiss.  With  my  lips  pressed 
to  yours,  let  us  meet  the  Unknown." 

"Not  the  Unknown,  John,  but  the  friend  who  has 
never  failed  me,  our  Heavenly  Father !" 

The  canoe  had  swung  in  against  the  bank,  and 
trembled  a  moment,  as  though  conscious  of  its  precious 
cargo,  giving  another  instant  for  the  last  handgrasp, 
the  last  "God,  we  come  to  Thee!" 

Ah,  what  an  eternity  in  that  last  moment.  Why  did 
the  frail  craft  still  tremble  on  the  brink  of  the  cataract, 
refusing  to  take  the  awful  plunge?  What  good  angel 
held  its  prow  to  the  bank,  while  the  stern  hung  over 
the  abyss? 

Above  the  roar  of  the  wild  waters,  a  growl  that 
grew  into  a  cry  of  agony  startled  Peggy  and  Weston. 


262  Peggy    Ware 

"It's  Hero.  It's  Hero !"  cried  Peggy,  above  the  roar 
of  the  cataract.  "See,  he  is  holding  fast  to  something, 
preventing  us  from  plunging  over  the  fall !" 

Doctor  Weston  crept  cautiously  to  the  prow  of  the 
canoe,  fearing  that  he  might  upset  it.  Hero,  with  his 
feet  planted  firmly  on  the  bottom,  had  seized  a  grape 
vine  that  swung  out  over  the  stream  a  little  way  from 
the  bank,  and  was  holding  on  with  an  almost  super- 
human strength. 

Weston  laid  hold  with  both  hands,  and  after  a  ter- 
rific struggle  brought  the  end  of  the  canoe  against  the 
bank  and  held  it  there  until  Peggy  could  step  to  the 
ground.  She  looped  the  rope  with  which  she  had  been 
bound,  around  Doctor  Weston's  wrists,  and  com- 
manded Hero  to  jump  ashore.  She  held  one  end  of 
the  rope,  and  Hero,  following  her  example,  seized  it 
between  his  iron-like  jaws.  The  canoe  slipped  out 
from  under  Weston* and  shot  over  the  falls,  while 
he  struggled  for  a  moment  in  the  water,  and  then  with 
the  combined  efforts  of  Peggy  and  Hero,  he  stood  in 
safety  on  the  bank  of  the  stream. 


Wilbur  Ware  and  Cliff  Anderson  heard  the  cries  of 
Whitman,  and  rushed  to  the  scene  as  fast  as  possible. 
They  crossed  the  foot  log,  and  were  horrified  to  find 
Simon  weltering  in  his  own  blood,  apparently  dead, 
a  great  wound  on  his  head.  They  were  searching  for 
some  clue  to  the  tragedy,  when  two  men  came  up  with 
Bill  Kellett,  badly  frightened,  between  them.  Sternly 
Anderson  said:  "Bill,  we  are  in  a  hurry.  I'll  give 
you  lessen  five  minits  to  tell  all  you  know  about  the 
murder  of  this  old  nigger.    Spit  it  out  quick !" 

Bill's  teeth  were  chattering,  and  bully  like,  he  began 
to  whine  and  lie. 


The  Surrender  263 

"Bud  Whitman  knocked  him  on  the  head  with  the 
butt  of  his  gun,"  explained  Kellett. 

"Why  did  he  do  that?  What  was  Simon  doing 
here?"  demanded  Anderson.  "Now  don't  lie  ef  you 
know  what's  good  fer  you." 

"He  vvus  tryin'  to  pertect  Peggy  Wrare,"  said  Bill. 

"The  hell  you  say !"  hissed  Anderson,  beside  him- 
self with  fear  and  rage.  "Bring  me  the  rope,  boys. 
Now,  tell  it  all  in  jest  one  minit  without  me  havin'  to 
ax  you  another  dam  question." 

"Don'  hang  me,  Cap,  fer  Gawd's  sake.  I  ain't  fitten 
to  die.    I'll  tell  it  all." 

In  a  few  sentences  he  described  the  seizing  of  Peg- 
gy, the  fight  with  Hero  and  Simon,  the  binding  of 
Peggy  with  a  rope  and  the  placing  of  her  in  a  canoe. 

"Bud  shoved  it  off  into  the  creek."  said  Kellett,  "an' 
somehow  lost  his  balance  an'  fell  in  hisself,  an'  the  last 
I  seed  of  him,  he  come  up  onct  and  hollered  'Ketch  me, 
Bill'!" 

Anderson  leaped  on  the  foot  log,  and  crossed  it  like 
a  deer.  "Don't  hang  the  dam  scoundrel  'til  I  git  back," 
he  shouted,  and  he  was  gone,  racing  down  the  creek 
like  the  wind. 

"Take  Simon  to  Mr.  Anderson's  home,"  said  Wilbur 
Ware,  "and  tell  Mrs.  Anderson  and  Ruth  to  do  what- 
ever they  can  for  him." 

Blindly  he  followed  in  the  direction  taken  by  And- 
erson, his  brain  burning  with  the  old  fires  of  unbelief. 
He  ran  until  exhausted,  and  then  crept  along  at  a 
snail's  pace,  falling  frequently  over  the  rocks,  and 
tangled  undergrowth. 

He  halloed  until  he  was  hoarse,  but  no  answer  came 
back  to  his  agonized  cry. 

"Peggy,  Peggy,"  he  whispered,  when  his  voice  failed 


264  Peggy    Ware 

him,  and  the  mocking  night  wind  seemed  to  answer 
back,  "Peggy,  Peggy." 

At  last  he  heard  the  roar  of  the  cataract,  and  stum- 
bled on.  Dimly  he  was  conscious  of  the  fear  that 
Peggy  had  gone  over  the  falls,  but  somehow  he  hoped 
that  she  was  safe  somewhere  below,  for  she  had  al- 
ways believed  so  in  God's  protection.  Surely  He  would 
not  take  her  from  her  great  work  just  in  the  beginning 
of  her  career. 

He  scrambled  down  the  high  bank,  and  stood  at  the 
foot  of  the  falls.  The  moon  had  risen  to  its  meridian 
and  looked  down  on  the  whirlpool  made  by  the  water 
pouring  over  the  cataract.  In  the  midst  of  the  whirl- 
pool, going  round  and  round  in  a  dizzy  circle  he  saw 
a  canoe.     Still  he  did  not  realize  its  meaning. 

He  crept  closer  until  he  reached  a  rock  that  hung 
out  over  the  whirling  water,  and  there  at  its  extreme 
point  sat  Anderson,  his  head  bare,  his  face  between  his 
hands,  sobs  shaking  his  body  as  the  storm  sways  the 
mighty  oak. 

Placing  his  hand  on  Anderson's  shoulder,  Wilbur 
Ware  said  :    "What  is  it,  Anderson?" 

"She's  thare  at  the  bottom  of  that  whirlpool,  ef  there 
is  any  bottom,  an'  we  won't  never  see  her  no  more,  no 
more!"  he  moaned.  "She  wus  jest  too  good  fer  this 
world,  an'  God  needed  her  up  yander  anyway.  But 
He  didn't  need  her  half  as  bad  as  we  do!"  And  again 
the  strong  man  wept. 

*  *  *  *  *  *  * 

When  Peggy  and  Doctor  Weston  were  almost  mirac- 
ulously rescued  by  Hero,  and  stood  on  firm  ground, 
they  looked  into  each  other's  eyes,  speechless.  The 
reaction  from  the  certainty  of  death  to  the  duties  of 
life,  found  them  stunned.  Their  faculties  were  para- 
lyzed, their  limbs  were  numbed,  and  it  was  the  joy  of 


The  Surrender  265 

Hero  that  aroused  Peggy  from  her  lethargic  state. 
He  leaped  upon  her,  licked  her  hands,  then  bounded 
away  along  a  trail  leading  through  the  forest,  to  re- 
turn in  a  few  moments  and  catch  hold  of  her  skirt 
and  pull  her  in  the  direction  taken  by  the  path. 

"Hero  seems  thankful  that  we  have  been  saved.  I 
thank  you,  my  noble  friend,  for  this  rebuke,"  said 
Peggy,  patting  his  head.  "For  a  moment  I  suffered 
the  most  bitter  pang  of  disappointment  of  my  whole 
life,  but  you  have  shown  me  my  utter  selfishness,  and 
I  thank  God  for  saving  me  from  a  selfish  death." 

"I,  too,  thank  God,  Peggy,  for  now  we  can  live  for 
each  other,"  said  Doctor  Weston.  "A  little  while  ago 
we  thought  that  we  must  die  to  have  each  other.  Now 
a  new  world  opens,  one  that  I  had  only  sensed  in  my 
dreams,  and  my  soul  rejoices  for  the  experience  that 
brought  about  the  revelation  of  our  love.  Let  me  take 
you  in  my  arms  and  feel  your  warm  lips  pressed  to 
mine,  not  in  a  kiss  of  death,  but  in  one  plighting  our 
troth." 

She  shrank  from  him,  a  cry  of  pain  escaping  from  her 
lips.  "Don't,  Doctor  Weston,  don't!  for  God's  sake!" 
she  exclaimed. 

He  drew  back,  frightened.  He  could  not  divine  the 
cause  of  her  outcry. 

"Not  now,  my  friend,  oh,  not  now !"  she  cried.  "Let 
us  follow  Hero,  he  will  guide  us  out  of  these  woods, 
and  then  we  can  find  our  way  home.  My  father,  Mr. 
Anderson,  Ruth,  and  the  others  will  be  beside  them- 
selves with  anxiety,  and  Simon,  dear  old  Simon,  may 
be  dead.  Oh,  how  selfish  I  have  been !  God  forgive 
me !" 

Doctor  Weston  was  too  stunned  for  words  by  this 
sudden  change  in  Peggy's  attitude,  and  he  followed 
her  dazedly. 


266  Peggy    Ware 

They  had  not  proceeded  far  until  they  saw  the  gleam 
of  a  light  toward  which  Hero  was  leading  them.  It 
came  from  the  cabin  of  the  man  that  halted  the  Ware 
family  when  it  entered  Bucks  Pocket  in  the  ox  wagon. 
Mart  Suttles  and  his  wife  sat  by  the  log  fire  that 
burned  cheerily  in  the  wide-mouthed  chimney.  In 
answer  to  Hero's  bark,  he  opened  the  door  cautiously, 
his  trusty  rifle  in  one  hand.  Seeing  Peggy,  he  ex- 
claimed : 

"Lawd  bless  yoah  heart,  Miss  Peggy,  whatever  are 
you  all  doin'  here  at  midnight?  Come  in,  you  look 
lak  you  are  ready  to  drap.  Here,  ketch  her,  ma !"  he 
said  in  alarm,  as  Peggy  reeled,  and  would  have  fallen 
if  Mrs.  Suttles  had  not  thrown  her  strong  arms  about 
her. 

"Come  help  me  put  her  on  the  cot,  Mart.  The  pore 
thing  is  as  limp  as  a  rag,  and  whiter  than  a  sheet. 
I'll  make  her  a  cup  of  strong  coffee  here  on  the  coals 
in  a  jiffy,  an'  it'll  fetch  her  back.  My  ma  used  to  faint 
that  way,  an'  coffee  was  alius  the  bes'  thing  we  could 
give  her." 

Suttles  explained  that  he  was  sitting  up  on  account 
of  the  prospective  conflict  between  the  soldiers  and 
slackers. 

"I  would  a  been  gone  up  to  the  school  house  afore 
now,"  he  said,  "but  Miranda  begged  me  not  to  go,  an' 
I  been  persuadin'  her  it  were  my  duty,  an'  she  had  jist 
about  give  her  consent  when  I  heered  the  dog 
a-barkin'." 

"That's  whare  you're  wrong,  Mart,"  said  his  wife. 
"You  hed  made  up  yore  min'  you  wus  goin',  consent 
er  no  consent,  an'  when  you  git  that  way  I  alius  give 
in." 

The  coffee  was  now  ready  and  the  strong  woman 


The  Surrender  267 

took  Peggy  in  her  arms  as  she  might  have  held  a  child. 
"Drink  it,  honey,  it'll  do  you  good,"  she  said. 

Without  opening  her  eyes  or  showing  other  signs 
of  life,  Peggy  swallowed  the  strong  beverage,  and 
after  a  few  spoonfuls  she  showed  signs  of  returning 
consciousness. 

You  feel  better  now,  don't  you,  little  one?"  said  Mrs. 
Suttles,  as  her  kindly  face  beamed  with  pleasure. 

"Oh,  I  am  quite  well  now,  thank  you,"  saying  which 
Peggy  closed  her  eyes,  sighed  deeply,  and  apparently 
fell  asleep.  Doctor  Weston  told  the  Suttles  the  ex- 
periences that  brought  them  to  their  home  at  this  hour 
of  the  night. 

"Good  Lord,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Suttles,  "her  daddy 
will  be  plumb  skeered  to  death,  an'  you  settin'  here 
with  yore  mouth  open,  bakin'  yore  shins  by  a  good 
warm  fire.  Ain't  you  ashamed  of  yoreself,  Mart  Sut- 
tles?   You  ought  a  been  half  way  thare  before  now." 

"When  she  talks  that  a  way,  I  alius  agree  with  her," 
said  her  husband,  winking  slyly  at  Doctor  Weston. 
"You  all  jest  stay  here,  an'  I'll  go  an'  fetch  her  daddy 
an'  Anderson  an'  a  wagon  to  take  her  home." 

Suttles  hung  his  shot  pouch  over  his  shoulder,  picked 
up  his  gun  and  was  gone  before  his  wife  could  fire 
her  parting  shot. 

"Jest  lak  a  man,"  she  muttered,  "to  set  aroun'  an' 
talk  while  this  pore  chil's  lyin'  here  more  dead  en 
alive,  an'  her  folks  skeered  plumb  crazy.  She's  the 
finest  gal  in  the  world,  Mister,  an'  I'd  ruther  see  half 
the  folks  in  Bucks  Pocket  die  than  to  have  her  go.  I 
never  believed  in  God  til  she  came,  an'  a  passel  more 
wus  jest  lak  me.  I  use  to  believe  in  hell,  fer  we  women 
lived  in  hell  most  o'  the  time.  My  ole  man'd  come 
home  full  of  pizen  licker,  an'  beat  me  up,  an'  all  the 
men  done  the  same,  but  now  they  ain't  no  wild-cat 


268  Peggy    Ware 

whiskey,  an'  they  ain't  no  hell  in  Bucks  Pocket,  'cept 
what  them  slackers  is  raisin',  an'  I  gwine  to  make  Mart 
help  round  'em  up,  an'  I  am  ready  to  do  my  part.  I 
kin  shoot,"  she  said  proudly,  pointing  to  a  long  squirrel 
rifle  that  hung  on  the  wall. 

Peggy ',s  breathing  was  now  long  and  regular,  and 
Doctor  Weston  told  Mrs.  Suttles  that  she  was  sleeping 
soundly,  and  would  probably  sleep  for  several  hours, 
and  insisted  that  she  retire  and  rest  while  he  watched 
beside  Peggy. 

"All  right,  Mister.  Ef  yore  a  doctor,  you  ought  to 
know  what's  best,"  she  said.  "I'll  be  right  in  the  next 
room,  an'  you  kin  call  me  ef  you  need  me." 

Left  alone,  Weston  moved  his  chair  beside  the  cot, 
took  Peggy's  hand  in  his,  and  waited  for  her  awaken- 
ing. 

5|C  5]C  «$E  !|C  #)»  3f«  3f»  3|S 

"Are  we  alone?" -said  Peggy,  opening  her  eyes.  "I 
must  have  slept  a  long  time.     I  feel  so  refreshed." 

"Yes,  dear,  you  have  slept  quite  a  while,  and  I  am 
expecting  your  father  and  Mr.  Anderson  pretty  soon, 
as  Mr.  Suttles  has  gone  to  tell  them  our  whereabouts. 
Before  they  come,  I  think  it  well  for  us  to  discuss  our 
new  relations,  after  the  knowledge  that  has  come  to 
us  of  our  mutual  love.  Shall  we  tell  your  father  to- 
night?" 

"Of  course,  I  must  inform  Ruth  at  the  first  oppor- 
tunity. It  is  the  only  honorable  thing  to  do.  You 
quite  agree  with  me,  don't  you,  my  own  Peggy?" 

"Come,  hold  my  hand,  John,  while  I  answer  your 
questions,"  said  Peggy,  "for  I  have  much  to  say  to  you, 
and  I  don't  want  you  to  interrupt  me  until  I  have 
finished.  It  must  be  said  before  my  father  or  anyone 
arrives. 

"Tonight  you  and  I  faced  death  as  really  as  we  ever 


The  Surrender  269 

shall,  and  in  His  presence  I  confessed  my  great  love 
for  you.  In  that  supreme  moment  you  discovered  that 
your  love  for  me  was  of  a  different  sort  than  your  love 
for  Ruth.  I  believe  you  are  sincere  in  this.  I  think  I 
can  understand  how  you  may  love  her  very,  very  much, 
and  yet  find  in  me  a  greater  love. 

"It  may  seem  to  you  tonight  that  your  supreme 
happiness  depends  on  having  me,  and  that  you  must 
do  so  at  all  cost.  This  is  where  your  self  has  taken 
the  center  of  the  stage,  and  your  soul  is  in  the  shadow. 

"I  was  so  weak  a  while  ago,  I  welcomed  death  that 
I  might  die  in  your  arms.  I  knew  that  if  I  lived,  I 
must  give  you  up,  and  I  preferred  death." 

He  was  about  to  say  something  in  protest,  but  she 
placed  her  fingers  on  his  lips. 

"I  know  what  you  are  going  to  say,  dear.  The  ar- 
gument you  would  make,  and  the  reasons  you  would 
give  are  as  old  as  the  race,  but  they  are  so  pathetically 
weak  when  measured  by  the  standard  of  the  soul.  I 
am  measuring  by  that  standard  now. 

"When  we  thought  we  were  doomed  to  go  over  the 
falls,  I  was  measuring  by  the  standard  of  self.  Oh,  I 
thank  Him  for  rescuing  me  from  my  selfish  desire  ! 

"I  am  glad  the  great  crisis  has  come,  John.  I  am 
glad  that  we  both  know.  It  will  be  a  great  comfort 
when  the  way  sometimes  grows  dark  and  we  feel  the 
need  of  human  sympathy.  I  suppose  we  shall  feel 
this  need  for  countless  ages  yet. 

"We  will  go  back  to  the  great  world,  stronger  by 
reason  of  this  knowledge,  and  more,  because  we  have 
gained  another  victory  over  self. 

"By  a  wonderful  Providence,  we  have  been  brought 
to  Bucks  Pocket,  and  our  lives  have  met  in  a  most  un- 
usual way.  We  have  both  glimpsed  the  light  that 
burns  on  the  mountain  of  truth,  and  once  having  seen 


270  Peggy    Ware 

it,  a  man  is  never  the  same  again.  He  can  never  turn 
back  if  he  would,  and  even  if  he  tries,  his  soul,  now 
conscious  of  its  own  being,  its  Divinity,  will  not  allow 
him. 

"If  you  and  I  yielded  to  the  cries  of  self  and  sacri- 
ficed Ruth,  we  would  fall  like  Lucifer,  and  for  weary 
ages  we  would  tread  the  winding  path  back  to  the 
point  where  we  first  saw  the  light.  The  tragedy  of  a 
soul  deliberately  turning  back  to  self  makes  the  angels 
weep. 

"If  you  and  I  belong  to  each  other  in  a  spiritual 
sense,  John,  it  would  thrust  us  apart  for  aeons.  If  we 
took  things  in  our  own  hands,  ignoring  the  Divine 
Will,  trampling  on  the  upturned  face  of  Ruth,  a  deadly 
canker  worm  would  gnaw  at  our  vitals,  and  at  the 
bottom  of  every  cup  of  nectar  we  sipped  together, 
there  would  be  a  poison  drop. 

"Even  if  this  were  not  so — if  there  were  no  Ruth — 
I  could  not  marry  you.  That  is  not  for  me  now.  Why, 
I  do  not  know ;  but  I  may  know  some  day  in  God's 
good  time.  I  do  know,  however,  that  there  is  a  long- 
ing in  my  soul  that  you  could  never  satisfy.  In  the 
moment  of  our  supremest  bliss,  this  longing,  this  soul 
passion,  would  cry  out,  and  you  and  I  would  be  as  far 
apart  as  the  poles.  You  would  feel  it,  and  it  would  be 
impossible  for  us  to  bridge  the  chasm,  try  as  we  might. 
No  devotion,  no  words  of  love,  no  tender  caresses, 
could  satisfy  in  the  slightest  degree  this  soul  longing. 

"There  is  only  one  who  can  answer  this  call  of  the 
soul,  and  that  is  God.  I  find  Him  in  my  Shrine  of 
Silence,  and  the  agony  in  my  soul  gives  way  to  peace. 

"You  could  not  be  happy  with  me,  and  I  could  not 
be  happy  with  you,  for  there  would  be  a  mighty  gulf 
fixed  between  us  as  wide  and  deep  as  the  one  that 
separated  Lazarus  and  Dives. 


The  Surrender  271 

"The  Wise  Ones  tell  us  that  each  has  his  soul  mate, 
his  complement,  his  other  self.  It  may  be  so.  I  some- 
times feel  that  it  is  so,  and  this  longing  may  be  for 
my  soul  mate.  If  so,  the  time  has  not  come  for  me  to 
have  that  longing  satisfied.  You  may  be  my  soul 
mate.  My  love  is  so  great  for  you  that  I  feel  that  it 
may  be  so.  If  you  are,  then  I  know  that  I  am  not 
ready  for  you ;  that  I  have  other  lives  to  live  before 
you  can  be  mine. 

"In  my  present  state  of  development,  if  I  really  pos- 
sessed my  soul  mate,  I  should  not  feel  my  need  of 
God.  He  would  be  my  God,  and  my  soul  would  be 
satisfied.  Not  until  I  have  grown  so  big  that  I  can 
have  my  soul  mate  and  still  have  room  for  God,  do  I 
desire  this  consummation  of  a  perfect  love. 

"We  will  go  back  to  our  world  as  if  nothing  had  hap- 
pened. God  has  already  unmistakably  pointed  the 
way,  and  in  His  way  we  will  walk  joyfully. 

"Ruth  will  be  waiting  for  you  with  loving  heart  and 
outstretched  arms,  while  I  go  to  follow  my  vision  un- 
til such  time  as  He  shall  say,  'Well  done,  good  and 
faithful  servant.' 

"Henceforth,  you  are  to  me  Doctor  Weston,  and  I 
am  just  Peggy,  your  most  devoted  friend." 

*  ******* 

Not  knowing  the  fate  of  Peggy,  her  father  and  And- 
erson watched  the  foaming  waters  at  the  foot  of  the 
falls.  Wilbur  Ware  placed  his  hand  on  Anderson's 
shoulder  and  tried  to  arouse  him  from  his  despair. 
"Let  us  hope,"  he  said,  "that  it  is  not  so  bad  as  we 
fear.  Perhaps  she  has  been  rescued  in  some  way.  I 
cannot  believe  that  my  wonderful  Peggy  lies  at  the 
bottom  of  this  awful  whirlpool." 

"I  ain't  got  no  hope,"  said  Anderson.  "An'  I  don't 
want  to  live  no  longer  ef  she  is  gone,  an'  I  don't  think 


272  Peggy    Ware 

I  will.  I  hope  my  time'll  come  soon,  but  before  I  go 
I  want  to  tell  you  sumpthin'  that's  been  eatin'  on  me 
ever  sence  you  come  to  Bucks  Pocket  an'  brought  that 
angel  from  heaven." 

When  Anderson  said,  "I  ain't  got  no  hope,"  Wilbur 
Ware's  heart  withered  with  fear.  The  old  fires  of  un- 
belief burned  again  in  his  brain.  His  throat  was  dry, 
and  he  licked  his  parched  lips  as  you  have  seen  a 
wounded  dog  famished  for  water. 

"If  Peggy,  my  Peggy,  lies  at  the  bottom  of  this 
whirlpool,  I'll  sleep  beside  her,"  he  cried  hoarsely,  his 
body  swaying  from  side  to  side. 

In  another  moment  he  would  have  plunged  head- 
long into  the  seething  water,  but  he  caught  the  sound 
of  Anderson's  voice,  and  it  held  him  back.  He  heard 
Anderson  say:  "Ruth  ain't  my  gal.  I  got  her  in  Chat- 
tanooga when  she  warn't  more'n  two  years  old,  I 
should  judge.  I  wus  up  thare  with  a  load  of  wild  cat 
whiskey,  an'  I  had  peddled  it  out  an'  sold  my  wagon 
an'  team  to  a  band  of  gypsies,  becase  the  revenoo  of- 
ficers wus  after  me,  an'  I  wus  coming  home  on  the 
boat  an'  dodge  'em." 

The  light  gleamed  again  for  Wilbur  Ware.  Perhaps 
his  Florence  lived  after  all.  God  was  still  in  his  world. 
He  must  have  rescued  Peggy.  Intently  he  listened  as 
Anderson  completed  his  story. 

"When  I  turned  over  my  wagon  an'  got  my  money, 
the  man  I  sold  to  an'  another  feller  wus  fussin'  about 
a  child,  an'  they  wus  so  mad  they  talked  right  afore 
me.  I  soon  found  out  it  wus  a  white  child  they  had 
stole,  an'  I  stepped  round  to  the  back  end  of  the  wagon 
whare  it  wus  hid,  a  cryin'  lak  its  heart  would  break, 
an'  picked  it  up  an'  started  off.  They  both  run  at  me 
with  their  knives,  but  I  was  a  pow'ful  hard  hitter  in 
them  days,  so  I  hauled  off  an'  hit  fust  one  an'  then 


The  Surrender  273 

tother,  one  lick  a  piece,  an'  the  last  I  seed  of  'em,  they 
wus  asleep. 

"Wall,  I  didn't  know  what  to  do.  The  officers  wus 
after  me,  an'  the  boat  sailed  in  an  hour,  an'  I  had  jest 
time  to  ketch  her.  They  wus  no  time  to  think,  so  I 
jest  beat  it  to  the  steamboat  landin'  an'  they  had  done 
tuk  up  the  gang  plank,  an'  I  had  to  jump,  an'  jest  did 
make  it. 

"I  tuk  the  kid  home,  an'  tol'  Molly  a  lie.  I  tol'  her 
they  give  it  to  me  at  a  orphan's  home,  an'  she  was 
that  tickled  becase  we  never  had  no  kids  of  our  own, 
an'  Molly  alius  wanted  one,  an'  I  did,  too. 

"I  know  you'll  hate  me,  an'  Molly'll  git  a  divorce 
frum  me,  'case  I'm  a  thief  an'  liar  both,  and  Ruth'll 
know  I  ain't  her  pa,  an'  what  I  done,  an'  she'll  never 
call  me  'Daddy'  again.  I  alius  felt  safe  ontil  you  come 
to  Bucks  Pocket,  and  sence  then  it's  been  hell,  hell." 

The  old  man  was  the  picture  of  despair.  His 
shoulders  drooped  dejectedly,  and  he  looked  hopelessly 
toward  the  whirlpool.  "Ef  she  wus  only  here,"  he  said 
brokenly,  "she  would  be  for  givin'  me  another  chance, 
but  thay  ain't  nobody  else  but  her  an'  God  would  do 
that,  an'  God  wouldn't  do  it  fer  me,  but  He  would  ef 
she  asked  Him." 

"I  don't  blame  you,  Mr.  Anderson,  far  from  it," 
warmly  exclaimed  Wilbur  Ware.  "I  thank  God,  I 
thank  you  for  saving  my  child  from  the  gypsies.  If 
Peggy  is  only  safe,  won't  it  be  a  happy  family  reunion? 
I  hear  a  dog's  bark.  Let  us  go  and  find  a  house  and 
get  assistance  to  search  for  Peggy,  if  it  be  God's  will 
that  she  is  still  alive.  If  not  we  will  recover  her  pre- 
cious body." 

Slowly  Anderson  followed  Ware's  footsteps.  His 
walk  was  that  of  a  feeble  old  man.  His  spirit  was 
broken,  and  his  body  bent. 


274  Peggy    Ware 

They  took  up  the  trail  leading  toward  Bill  Suttles' 
cabin,  attracted  by  a  light  in  the  window. 

*  ******* 

It  was  Peggy  who  first  heard  footsteps  approaching : 
"Kiss  me  for  the  last  time,  John,  until  we  meet  on 
another  plane,"  she  said.  Their  lips  met  in  a  sacri- 
ficial kiss.  It  was  the  sealing  of  their  compact  and 
the  crucifixion  of  self. 

The  door  opened  and  Wilbur  Ware,  walking  erect, 
followed  by  Anderson,  feebly  dragging  his  feet,  en- 
tered. 

"My  daughter,  my  Peggy,  alive  !  Thank  God  !  Thank 
God !"  reverently  spoke  her  father. 

Cliff  Anderson  was  the  old  man  no  longer.  The 
stoop  was  gone  from  his  shoulders,  the  shuffle  gone 
from  his  feet.  He  stood  like  Ajax,  defying  the  light- 
ning. 

"Are  you  hurt,  Miss  Peggy?  Are  you  able  to  be 
carried  home?"  he  said. 

"I  am  not  hurt  one  bit,"  she  said,  "and  I  am  so 
anxious  to  go  home." 

"Come  on,"  said  Anderson,  as  he  took  her  in  his 
arms,  like  a  big  doll,  and  strode  out  of  the  cabin. 
"Foller  me,  fer  I  know  a  nigh  way  that  cuts  off  consid- 
erable, an'  we'll  be  home  afore  that  slow  poke  Mart 
Suttles  gits  thare." 

Ware  and  Weston  had  great  difficulty  in  keep- 
ing up  with  him.  He  strode  like  a  colossus,  and  to 
their  offers  to  relieve  him  of  his  burden,  he  would 
say: 

"She  ain't  heavier  than  a  feather,  an'  you  fellers  have 
had  a  purty  tough  time  tonight,  an'  you  got  about  all 
you  kin  do  to  carry  yoreselves." 

Peggy  insisted  that  she  be  allowed  to  walk,  but 
Anderson   would    not   hear   of   it.      "This   is   the    fust 


The  Surrender  275 

chance  I  ever  had  to  do  anything  fer  you,  Miss  Peggy, 
an't  it  may  be  the  last  one,"  he  said. 

"Why  do  you  say  the  last  one,  Mr.  Anderson?"  she 
asked. 

"Becase  when  you  know  whut  I  tol'  yore  daddy  to- 
night, you'll  find  out  I  been  the  wust  old  hypercrite  in 
forty  states." 

"I  could  never  think  that,  Mr.  Anderson.  You 
know  what  I  think  of  you.  Now  tell  me  all  about  it, 
and  then  you  will  feel  better." 

He  repeated  to  her  the  story  of  Ruth's  abduction 
already  told  to  Peggy's  father. 

"Now,  I  guess  you'll  want  me  to  set  you  down  after 
you  know  how  pizen  my  tech  is?"  The  old  man  stop- 
ped, waiting  for  a  reply. 

"Yes,  if  you  please,  Mr.  Anderson,"  said  Peggy,  as 
the  old  man  let  her  gently  to  the  ground. 

Again  his  shoulders  stooped,  and  he  hung  his  head 
in  shame. 

"I  want  to  stand  on  the  ground  so  I  can  put  my 
arms  around  your  neck  and  kiss  you,  and  thank  you  for 
being  such  a  noble  father  to  my  sister." 

Before  he  had  time  to  protest,  Peggy  was  putting 
her  desire  into  action,  and  Anderson,  bewildered  and 
happy,  said : 

"It  don't  look  half  as  black  to  me  as  it  has  ever  sence 
you  came  to  Bucks  Pocket.  Mebbe  you  kin  git  Molly 
an'  Ruth  to  see  it  lak  you  and  yore  daddy  does." 

It  was  not  hard  for  Mrs.  Anderson  and  Ruth  to  get 
the  same  view  point. 

"I  told  you  onct  I  wus  the  bigges'  liar  in  Bucks 
Pocket.  Now  what  you  got  to  say  erbout  it,  Molly?" 
asked  her  husband. 

"I  got  to  say  that  ef  I  wus  big  enough  fool  to  be- 


276  Peggy    Ware 

lieve  it  all  this  time,  it  don't  make  no  difference,"  an- 
swered his  wife. 

"What  are  you  gwine  to  think  about  it,  Ruth?"  and 
he  turned  doubtfully  to  the  excited  girl. 

"I  think  I've  got  two  of  the  best  fathers  in  the  world, 
and  a  mother  here  and  one  up  yonder,  and  a  sister  that 
I  am  so  proud  of,  and  a  husband  that's  going  to  be," 
looking  shyly  at  Doctor  Weston,  "and  I'm  the  happiest 
girl  in  all  the  wide  world." 

Peggy's  first  inquiry  had  been  about  Simon. 

"He's  never  waked  up,"  said  Mrs.  Anderson.  He's 
layin'  thare  still  as  death,  an'  you  can't  tell  whether 
he's  breathin'  or  not.  When  they  brought  him  in,  an' 
I  heerd  they  warn't  no  one  to  yore  house,  but  Ralph 
and  Virginia,  I  sent  for  'em,  and  they  wanted  to  set 
up  with  Simon,  but  I  persuaded  'em  to  go  to  bed." 

Peggy  took  up  her  watch  beside  the  faithful  old 
hero,  and  would  not  listen  to  any  suggestion  that  she 
retire  for  a  little  rest.  "He  wouldn't  leave  me,"  she 
said,  "if  I  were  in  his  place,  and  I'll  stay  with  him  until 
there  is  a  change." 

Doctor  Weston  sat  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  bed, 
feeling  Simon's  pulse,  frequently,  and  listening  for  the 
faint  fluttering  of  his  heart. 

Just  as  the  first  streaks  of  dawn  shot  their  arrows 
across  the  East,  Doctor  Weston  whispered  to  Peggy 
that  the  end  was  near.  "Call  the  others  if  you  want 
them  to  be  present,"  he  said. 

Writh  a  breaking  heart,  she  told  her  father  that 
Simon  had  but  a  few  minutes  to  live,  and  he  aroused 
Ralph  and  Virginia,  and  the  others  of  the  household. 

In  a  little  while  they  were  grouped  about  the  bed 
where  Uncle  Simon  lay,  calm  and  motionless. 

"He  is  gone,"  said  Doctor  Weston  in  a  solemn  voice, 
holding  up  his  hand  reverently.     Ralph  and  Virginia 


The  Surrender  277 

began  to  cry,  while  sobs  came  from  almost  every  mem- 
ber of  the  group  of  watchers. 

There  had  been  no  sign  of  emotion  from  Peggy. 
She  stood  as  if  transfixed,  her  eyes  turned  heavenward. 
"Come  back !  Come  back !  My  dear  old  Simon,  I 
need  you  so !"  she  almost  shrieked,  as  she  fell  beside 
the  bed,  sobbing  in  uncontrollable  grief. 

Doctor  Weston,  still  looking  at  the  old  man's  calm 
face,  thought  he  heard  a  sigh.  Hastily  examining  him 
he  felt  certain  the  heart  quivered,  then  began  to  beat 
intermittently.  The  eyelids  moved  convulsively,  and 
then  a  great  indrawing  of  the  breath,  a  heaving  of  the 
bosom,  and  Simon  slowly  opened  his  eyes,  and  smiled 
feebly. 

"Yes,  honey,  I  heerd  you,  an'  I  done  come  back 
'case  you  said  you  needed  me,  an'  'case  Massa  Cap'n 
Lee  said  fer  me  to  cum  back,  an'  you  knows  I  nevah 
disobeyed  him  in  my  life." 

"Tell  us  what  you  mean,  Simon,  if  you  feel  strong 
enough  to  talk,"  said  Peggy. 

"Oh,  I  kin  talk  all  right,"  he  said,  "'case  I'se  been 
given  new  powah.  I  des  slipped  outen  dis  ole  body, 
an'  stood  fer  a  minit  lookin'  down,  but  I  ain't  thinkin' 
much  erbout  you  all,  'case  dar  wus  Massa  Lee,  old 
Missus  and  Young  Missus,  an'  de  stranges'  thing  ob 
all  wus  my  mammy  an'  daddy  wus  thare,  an'  I  ain't 
see  'em  sence  I  wus  a  little  boy  ober  in  Africa.  Dey 
wus  all  so  glad  to  see  me,  an'  Massa  Lee  said :  'Wel- 
come, Simon  !  You  has  been  faithful  over  thare  in  a 
few  things,  an  'God  has  great  joy  fer  you  over  heah.' 

"Den  my  mammy  say,  'We  so  glad  you  come,  little 
boy,  it  is  gran'  heah,  an'  we  is  with  sho'  nuff  quality.' 

"'Bout  dat  time  I  look  back,  an'  I  see  you  all  stannin' 
roun'  de  bed,  an'  me  lyin'  dar,  an'  I  heah  the  chilluns 
cryin'  an'  de  rest  ob  you  sobbin',  an'  it  made  me  so 


278  Peggy    Ware 

sorry  fer  you.  I  tried  to  tell  you  how  happy  I  wus, 
but  nobody  paid  any  'tention  to  me.  An'  den  I  heerd 
dis  heah  chil'  call  me,  an'  say  she  needed  me,  an'  I  feel 
lak  I  willin'  to  leave  heaben  to  come  back  to  her. 

"I  say,  'Massa  Lee,  what  shall  I  do?'  and  he  say, 
'Go  back,  Simon;  an'  ole  Missus,  Young  Missus,  my 
own  daddy  an'  mammy  all  say,  'dat's  right.'  An'  heah 
I  is." 

The  sun  rose  in  a  blaze  of  glory,  and  there  was  great 
rejoicing  in  the  home  of  Cliff  Anderson.  It  was  a 
new  day,  and  to  the  anxious  watchers  it  seemed  a  new 
heaven  and  new  earth  had  been  born  from  the  agony 
of  the  night. 

No  one  knew  when  Peggy  slipped  out  of  their 
midst.  Some  one  called  for  her,  and  Ruth  reported 
that  she  could  not  be  found. 

She  was  well  on  the  way  to  the  slackers'  encamp- 
ment. It  was  now  almost  eight  o'clock,  and  at  nine, 
unless  the  slackers  surrendered,  the  fire  of  the  ma- 
chine guns  would  be  poured  into  their  ranks. 

As  she  passed  the  school  house,  she  procured  a  flag 
which  she  carried  in  her  hand. 

"Halt,"  said  a  rough  voice,  as  she  neared  the  rendez- 
vous of  the  slackers. 

"Is  it  you,  Miss  Peggy?"  said  Billy  Wooten.  "I'm 
glad  you  come.  I  give  'em  yore  note,  but  they  can't 
make  up  their  min's  what  to  do.  Ef  you  want  to  talk 
to  'em,  foller  me." 

Just  around  a  great  boulder  they  came  upon  the 
camp  where  most  of  the  men  were  gathered. 

"Whitman  and  Kellett  is  gone,"  said  Wooten,  "an' 
we  ain't  got  no  leader,  so  we're  just  a  waitin',  not 
knowin'  what  to  do." 

The  men  eyed  Peggy  as  though  she  were  not  a 
welcome  guest. 


The  Surrender  279 

"Are  the  men  all  here?"  she  asked  Wooten. 
"No,  Miss,  but  I  kin  git  'em  here  in  three  shakes  of  a 
sheep's  tail,"  said  Wooten.  He  raised  a  horn  that 
hung  at  his  side,  placed  it  to  his  lips,  gave  three  long 
blasts,  and  Peggy  saw  men  rising  up  from  behind 
rocks  and  clumps  of  bushes,  where  a  moment  before 
the  sharpest  eyes  could  not  have  discovered  a  human 
being. 

"They're  all  here  now,  Miss,"  said  Wooten.  "I 
think  they'll  listen  to  you." 

Mounting  a  boulder  that  gave  her  a  slight  elevation 
so  the  men  could  all  see  her,  and  she  could  look  into 
their  faces,  she  said : 

"Men,  I  think  I  understand  this  situation  better  than 
you  do  yourselves.  There  is  not  a  coward  among  you. 
There  were  only  two,  but  they  are  gone.  You  are  all 
brave  men  and  not  afraid  to  fight,  but  you  want  to 
know  why  you  are  called  on  to  fight.  You  need  but  one 
reason,  and  that  is  your  country,  your  Government 
wants  you. 

"No  patriotic  American  citizen  needs  any  other  rea- 
son. Whether  you  sympathize  with  Germany  or 
France  and  England  is  wholly  beside  the  question. 
Whether  you  favor  war  at  all,  or  not,  has  nothing  to 
do  with  the  issue.  You  may  be  a  conscientious  ob- 
jector, but  that  is  no  earthly  excuse. 

"My  conscience  opposes  war;  every  fiber  of  my  be- 
ing cries  out  against  it.  The  shedding  of  blood  to  me 
is  horrible ;  but  when  my  Country  has  spoken,  I  have 
no  more  opinions,  they  are  all  submerged  in  the  duty 
I  owe  my  Country. 

"Some  great  patriot  once  said,  when  patriotism  was 
a  virtue,  'My  Country,  right  or  wrong.' 

"It  is  fashionable  in  some  quarters  today  to  decry 
this,  but  I  believe  it  is  a  principle  that  holds  good  to- 


280  Peggy    Ware 

day  just  as  it  did  when  Washington  fought  at  Valley 
Forge. 

"I'll  tell  you  why  it's  the  true  American  doctrine, 
men.  This  is  a  Republic  where  a  majority  rules,  and 
when  the  majority  speaks,  the  individual  must  bow  in 
obedience.  Otherwise  we  would  have  no  law,  no  gov- 
ernment, no  country.  Every  man  would  be  a  law 
unto  himself,  and  anarchy  would  trample  our  flag  in 
the  dust,  and  civilization  would  plunge  into  chaos. 

"Our  Government,  through  our  duly  elected  repre- 
sentatives, says  to  go  to  France  and  fight  Germany, 
and  I  want  every  man  here  to  go  and  show  them  the 
sort  of  mettle  we  Southern  mountaineers  are  made  of. 
Will  you  do  it?" 

"I  will,"  said  Billy  Wooten,  and  a  chorus  of  "I  wills" 
went  up  from  the  camp. 

"All  of  you  who  will  go,  stand  up,"  said  Peggy. 

Every  man  rose  to  his  feet.  Peggy  unfurled  her 
flag,  and  waving  it  high  above  her  head,  she  shouted, 
"Three  cheers  for  the  stars  and  stripes."  And  the 
men  joined  in  with  hearty  good  will. 

"We  have  but  twenty  minutes  to  reach  that  high 
peak,"  she  said,  pointing  to  the  lone  sentinel  that  kept 
grim  watch  over  Bucks  Pocket.  "Who  will  volunteer 
to  go  with  me?" 

"I'll  go,"  said  Wooten,  and  they  were  off  for  a  race 
with  time. 

Peggy  hastily  looked  at  her  watch  as  they  neared 
the  summit.  "We  have  just  five  minutes,"  she  said. 
"Let's  hurry."  She  was  breathless  when  they  reached 
the  last  steep  climb. 

"I  can't  go  on,"  she  said  piteously.  "Go  ahead  and 
wave  this  white  flag,"  she  said,  handing  Wooten  her 
handkerchief. 

"Let  me  climb  up  an'  then  I  can  reach  down  an'  pull 


The  Surrender  281 

you  up,"  said  Wooten.    "I  want  you  to  be  thare,  too." 

He  scrambled  up  the  face  of  the  rock,  threw  himself 
flat  on  the  ground,  and  reaching  far  over,  cried: 
"Gimme  yore  hands." 

Grasping  Peggy  firmly  by  the  wrists,  he  drew  her 
up  until  she  lay  balanced  over  the  edge  of  the  rock. 

"Wait  a  minit,"  he  said,  "'til  I  git  on  my  feet,  an'  then 
I'll  help  you  on  yorn." 

"Just  one  minute  left,"  said  Peggy,  looking  at  her 
watch.    "Thank  God,  we  are  in  time." 

Wooten  hoisted  Peggy's  handkerchief  on  the  end 
of  a  stick  he  had  picked  up. 

"Wave  it  Billy!  Wave  it!"  she  shouted  enthusias- 
tically. 

She  snatched  the  stars  and  stripes  from  the  ground 
where  Wooten  had  laid  the  flag  while  he  helped  Peggy 
up  the  side  of  the  cliff. 

Frantically  she  waved  it,  as  Wooten  held  the  flag 
of  surrender  high  above  his  head. 

Looking  from  the  valley  below,  everyone  could  see 
them.  Doctor  Weston  had  anticipated  Peggy's  inten- 
tions when  she  disappeared  from  Cliff  Anderson's.  He 
had  gone  to  the  church  and  was  watching  from  the 
tower  where  the  chime  of  bells  hung. 

Lieutenant  Johnson  was  also  watching  through  his 
field  glasses.  When  he  saw  Wooten  waving  the  white 
flag,  and  Peggy  the  Stars  and  Stripes,  his  glasses 
seemed  to  blur,  and  he  grumbled  that  "the  thing 
needed  cleaning."  He  took  out  his  handkerchief  for 
the  purpose,  but  his  orderly,  afterward,  in  telling 
about  it,  said  the  Lieutenant  wiped  his  eyes. 

"Fire  a  salute  to  the  best  American  I  ever  saw,"  he 
commanded. 

As  the  gun  boomed  a  salute  to  Peggy  and  the 
American  flag,  Doctor  Weston  rang  the  chimes : 


282  Peggy    Ware 

"My  country,  'tis  of  thee, 
Sweet  land  of  liberty, 
Of  thee  I  sing" 

mingled  with  the  echo  of  the  guns. 

Looking  at  the  slight  form  of  Peggy,  joyously  wav- 
ing her  flag,  he  said : 

"She  is  as  high  above  me  as  the  heaven  is  above  the 
earth.  If  I  can  overtake  her  in  a  million  years  my  soul 
will  be  satisfied." 


Chapter  Nineteen 
CLIFF  ANDERSON  ENTERS  POLITICS 

AFTER  the  surrender  of  the  draft  evaders  it  was 
necessary  for  Lieutenant  Johnson  and  his  men 
to  remain  for  a  month  in  the  mountains,  aiding 
the  civil  authorities  in  hunting  out  slackers  secreting 
themselves  in  the  sparsely  settled  communities. 

At  Peggy's  solicitation,  the  soldiers  went  into  quar- 
ters in  Bucks  Pocket  near  the  Peggy  Ware  School, 
and  Peggy  organized  a  special  course  of  instruction 
for  all  the  draft  evaders  that  would  take  advantage  of 
it.  They  were  given  intensive  military  instruction, 
for  the  cry  was  coming  over  from  France  for  help, 
and  the  Government  had  planned  to  send  relief  as 
quickly  as  possible.  So  it  was  arranged  that  the  men 
should  attend  school  at  night.  Their  enthusiasm  was 
remarkable  once  they  had  taken  a  few  lessons. 

It  was  Peggy's  purpose  to  teach  them  to  spell,  read, 
and  write ;  and  it  was  not  long  until  every  man  could 
write  his  name.  Their  progress  was  much  more  rapid 
than  that  made  by  the  men  and  women  in  Peggy's 
school  for  the  illiterates.  These  were  people  past  mid- 
dle life,  some  of  them  seventy,  and  their  progress  had 
been  painfully  slow.  The  draft  dodgers  were  all  young 
men,  with  strong  native  intellect,  and  at  the  end  of 
the  month  they  had  acquired  a  thirst  for  education 
that  would  insure  a  continuance  of  their  studies. 

Peggy  talked  to  them  on  the  duties  of  citizenship. 
She  impressed  on  them  the  greatness  of  our  form  of 

283 


284  Peggy     Ware 

Government,  and  showed  them  the  blessed  privilege 
of  being  an  American  citizen.  She  told  them  that  the 
best  citizenship  also  meant  a  love  of  God,  for  good 
citizenship,  she  said,  called  for  the  surrender  of  many 
natural  rights  that  belonged  to  man  in  a  purely  ani- 
mal state. 

"I  want  you  to  always  remember,"  she  said,  "that 
you  are  living  souls,  and  that  as  such  you  are  sons  of 
God  and  brothers  to  all  mankind.  A  proper  recognition 
of  this  great  truth  will  make  you  better  soldiers  and 
better  citizens.  Good  citizenship  in  its  last  analysis 
means  the  love  of  God  and  service  to  our  fellow  man." 

When  the  men  were  bidding  her  goodbye,  she  urged 
them  to  write  to  their  mothers. 

"If  it  is  only  a  scrap  of  paper  on  which  you  write 
your  name  and  say,  'Mother,  I  am  thinking  of  you,' 
don't  fail,  boys,  for  you  will  never  know  what  it  will 
mean  to  her." 

"I  ain't  got  no  mother,  Miss  Peggy,"  said  Billy 
Wooten,  sadly.  "My  daddy  and  mammy  died  when  I 
wus  a  little  feller,  an'  I  never  had  no  brothers  or  sis- 
ters. I  ain't  even  got  a  sweetheart,"  he  said  shyly, 
"so  if  anything  happens  to  me  it  won't  make  no  differ- 
ence." 

In  spite  of  his  brave  efforts,  Peggy  saw  the  tears  in 
his  eyes. 

"There  is  someone  that  would  care,  Billy,"  said 
Peggy,  as  she  held  his  hand  in  hers.  "It  would  wring 
my  heart  if  you  did  not  come  back,  and  I  shall  pray 
every  day  for  your  safe  return." 

"You  don't  meant  it,  do  you?"  said  he.  "I  didn't 
'spose  you'd  ever  think  of  me  agin." 

"At  a  certain  hour  every  day,  I'll  think  of  you  and 
pray  for  you,  and  I  want  you  to  write  to  me." 

"It  won't  be  much  writin',  Miss  Peggy.     Ef  you'll 


Cliff  Anderson  Enters  Politics  285 

write  yore  name  on  a  piece  of  paper,  so  I  kin  look  at 
it  when  I  go  to  write,  it'll  help  me  out  about  the  spell- 
in'.    I  think  I  kin  manage  to  write  my  name." 

A  new  light  had  come  into  his  eyes,  and  the  big 
mountain  boy  marched  away  with  a  firm  step  and  light 

heart. 

*  ******* 

Winslow  and  Cranston  were  working  with  a  will  on 
their  masterpiece.  They  had  filmed  the  soldiers  and 
the  slackers.  They  were  enthusiastic  over  the  scene 
showing  the  surrender.  They  told  Peggy  that  her 
services  would  come  to  the  notice  of  the  authorities, 
and  that  she  would  be  given  signal  recognition  for 
her  patriotic  action. 

"I  hope  there  will  be  no  publicity,"  she  said.  "I 
don't  want  anyone  to  think  that  these  splendid  young 
mountaineers  were  afraid  to  fight.  All  I  did  was  to 
put  it  before  them  in  the  proper  light.  When  I  did  so, 
they  were  eager  to  go.  Anyone  could  have  done  this 
just  as  well  as  I  did.  I  predict  that  they  will  make  a 
record  in  France  to  be  proud  of. 

Wilbur  Ware  had  not  been  idle.  Following  out  the 
plans  already  approved  by  Peggy,  he  had  gone  into 
a  number  of  communities,  called  the  people  together, 
and  laid  before  them  the  proposition  for  the  establish- 
ment of  a  Community  Center. 

Although  the  people  were  at  first  a  little  slow  and 
skeptical,  he  had  gradually  won  them  over,  until  now 
there  were  twenty  houses  complete  in  as  many  com- 
munities. In  some  of  these  communities  he  had  found 
as  many  as  four  church  houses,  and  in  most  of  them 
at  least  two.  These  represented  as  many  different  de- 
nominations, differing  on  some  point  of  theological 
dogma,  "doctrinal  pints,"  as  expressed  in  the  moun- 
tain vernacular. 


286  Peggy    Ware 

For  the  most  part,  these  church  houses  were  falling 
into  decay.  The  windows  were  broken  out,  the 
steeples  either  toppled  over  or  threatening  to  fall,  while 
the  dust  of  years  had  accumulated  on  the  floor,  benches 
and  pulpits.  The  fierce  theological  strife  had  stifled 
all  spiritual  growth,  and  at  last  the  congregations  had 
diminished  until  there  was  no  one  left  to  pay  the  theo- 
logians, and  they  had  departed  to  other  fields. 

The  churches  were  usually  close  together,  on  oppo- 
site sides  of  the  road,  perhaps,  but  close  enough  so 
each  congregation  could  see  what  its  "rival"  was  do- 
ing. 

In  only  one  thing  could  they  agree — that  was  in  hav- 
ing a  common  burial  plot  called  the  "graveyard." 

When  Father  Time  mowed  them  down,  open  com- 
munion and  close  communion,  infant  baptism  and  in- 
fant damnation,  immersion  and  sprinkling  were  all  for- 
gotten, and  they  mingled  their  tears  burying  their  dead 
side  by  side,  the  saint  and  the  sinner,  to  await  the 
judgment  day  when  they  should  come  forth  from  their 
graves,  the  saints  to  be  caught  up  into  everlasting 
glory,  while  the  sinners  would  be  cast  with  all  other 
goats  into  outer  darkness. 

These  graveyards  reflected  the  religious  thought 
of  the  community.  They  were  desolate  beyond  the 
power  of  human  language  to  describe.  Overgrown 
with  briers  and  broom  sage,  the  mounds  heaped  above 
the  graves  sinking  lower  and  lower  as  the  years  went 
by,  until  you  could  almost  touch  the  rotting  pine  board 
coffin  in  which  the  poor  skeleton  rested. 

It  was  no  wonder  that  the  dwellers  in  these  com- 
munities who  had  never  heard  any  but  "doctrinal" 
sermons,  who  never  came  to  their  graveyards  except 
to  lay  a  friend  or  loved  one  beneath  the  desolate  sod, 
had  drifted  away  from  the  churches.     A  religion  of 


Cliff  Andfrson  Enters  Politics  287 

gloom,  of  bickering,  of  materialism,  had  done  its  work, 
and  Wilbur  Ware  found  the  unmistakable  evidence  in 
almost  every  community. 

In  the  twenty  communities  selected  by  him  there 
had  been  a  resurrection.  The  dead  ones,  who  were 
"walking  about  to  save  funeral  expenses,"  in  the  pic- 
turesque language  of  Cliff  Anderson,  had  been  gal- 
vanized into  life. 

The  old  church  houses  had  been  torn  down  where 
that  was  feasible  and  used  in  the  construction  of  Com- 
munity Center  houses.  These  served  for  church,  Sun- 
day School,  social  gatherings,  for  picture  shows  and 
other  forms  of  educational  entertainment. 

The  plans  had  been  so  drawn  that  the  main  build- 
ing could  be  thrown  into  smaller  rooms.  These  served 
as  school  rooms  for  the  primary  schools  until  such 
time  as  a  suitable  school  building  could  be  erected. 
When  more  lumber  was  needed  than  provided  by  tear- 
ing down  the  churches,  the  men  of  the  communities 
had  banded  together,  cut  the  pine  trees,  hauled  them 
to  the  nearest  saw  mill,  furnishing  all  the  lumber  re- 
quired. 

From  the  nearby  towns  of  Chattanooga,  Nashville, 
Birmingham,  Atlanta,  and  many  others  came  donations 
of  hardware,  doors,  and  windows,  and  the  necessary 
cash  for  the  purchase  of  seats,  and  to  meet  all  other 
requirements. 

A  friendly  rivalry  sprang  up,  and  each  community 
tried  to  outvie  the  other  in  the  early  completion  of 
its  building. 

The  graveyards  were  cleared  off,  flowers  planted, 
and  they  became  beauty  spots,  rather  than  haunts  of 
desolation. 

Peggy's  motion-picture  circuit  now  consisted  of 
twenty  houses,  and  she,  Winslow  and  Cranston  talked 


288  Peggy     Ware 

enthusiastically  of  the  day  when  there  would  be  hun- 
dreds of  places  where  pictures  with  a  soul  would  be 
exhibited. 

Doctor  Weston  had  given  all  the  time  to  aiding  in 
the  establishment  of  the  Community  Centers  he  could 
spare  from  his  work  with  the  "lonesome"  people. 

Cliff  Anderson's  life  was  a  busy  one,  for  he  was  the 
"big  boss"  of  the  farming  and  industrial  work. 

Ruth  was  to  remain  in  the  Anderson  home  until  her 
marriage  to  Doctor  Weston.  She  would  always  retain 
the  name  of  Ruth,  given  her  by  Molly  Anderson.  She 
had  been  told  every  detail  of  the  story  of  her  abduction 
by  the  gypsies,  and  her  rescue  by  Cliff  Anderson.  She 
had  also  learned  that  another  child,  a  girl,  of  the  same 
age,  was  stolen  at  the  same  time  and  had  never  been 
recovered.  This  gave  her  much  concern.  She  brooded 
over  it  until  it  became  an  obsession  with  her. 

"How  can  I  be  sure  who  I  am?"  she  would  ask  her 
betrothed.  "Perhaps  I  am  the  other  girl.  I  want  to 
know  my  parentage  for  a  certainty." 

Old  Simon  often  tried  to  comfort  and  assure  her. 
"ChiT,  they  ain't  no  sort  ob  question  erbout  it.  In 
de  fust  place  you  is  de  zact  image  of  Young  Missus. 
You  kin  see  dat  fer  yoreself  when  you  looks  at  her 
picter.  Den  you'se  a  Lee.  Dey  ain't  no  bettah  blood 
in  de  Souf,  an'  you  shows  youah  quality  ebery  time  you 
turns  aroun'." 

Cliff  Anderson  was  now  confronted  with  the  problem 
that  he  had  been  fearing.  Peggy  was  insistent  that  he 
make  the  race  for  the  Legislature,  and  he  must  make 
up  his  mind. 

"I'd  ruther  be  in  France  with  them  Germans  shootin' 
at  me  an'  gassin'  me  all  at  onct,"  he  told  Peggy. 
"They's  jest  one  human  bein'  in  the  world  that  I'd  do  it 


Cliff  Anderson  Enters  Politics  289 

fer,  an'  ef  you  insist,  I'll  give  that  little  pecker-wood 
lawyer  the  durndest  fight  he  ever  had." 

The  momentous  question  was  settled,  and  with  his 
usual  energy  Cliff  Anderson  entered  the  race  for  the 
lower  house  of  the  General  Assembly,  on  a  platform 
advocating  an  appropriation  of  ten  thousand  dollars  a 
year  for  the  Peggy  Ware  School. 

A  mighty  howl  went  up  from  the  cross-roads  politi- 
cians, and  Amos  Fuller,  who  up  to  this  time  had  no 
opposition,  promptly  challenged  Anderson  to  a  joint 
discussion,  knowing  that  he  would  make  short  work  of 
him  and  his  issue. 

"I've  been  a-feard  of  this  jint-discussion,"  he  told 
Peggy.  "You  know  they  are  pow'ful  pop'lar  with  we 
Southern  people,  an'  ef  I  back  down  they'll  call  me  a 
coward  an'  then  I  will  shore  git  beat.  So  I'm  gwine  to 
rassel  with  the  little  bumble  bee.  But  you  must  be  at 
the  fust  speakin',  Miss  Peggy,  becase  it  will  help  me 
pow'ful  when  I  git  the  'buck  aguer,'  to  see  you  thare 
a-backin'  me  up.  I  think  you  better  pray  fer  me  too, 
becase  I'm  gwine  to  need  all  the  help  I  kin  git.  You 
might  help  me  out  on  my  grammar  a  little,  ef  I  git 
too  bad  balled  up." 

"Your  grammar  is  all  right,  Mr.  Anderson,"  Peggy 
assured  him.  "Don't  think  about  your  grammar,  just 
put  your  whole  heart  in  what  you  say,  and  the  Lord 
will  inspire  you  to  say  the  proper  thing." 

"Wall,  ef  he  don't,  I'm  a-feard  I  won't  say  much,  an' 
ef  that  Amos  Fuller  gits  to  makin'  game  of  me,  an'  I 
can't  beat  him  talkin',  I  recon  I  kin  lick  him." 

Peggy  laughed  at  the  latter  remark.  "You  will  lick 
him  with  his  own  weapons,  never  fear,"  Peggy  assured 
him,  and  the  old  man  felt  considerably  relieved. 

The  first  meeting  was  to  be  at  Flat  Rock,  where  one 
of   the   Community   Center   churches   had   been   built. 


290  Peggy    Ware 

Fuller  had  demanded  the  right  to  open  and  close  the 
discussion,  expecting  in  his  closing  speech  to  put  An- 
derson to  an  ignominious  flight.  Anderson  readily 
agreed  to  the  division  of  time. 

"I  kin  tell  all  I  know  in  one  speech,"  he  said,  "an' 
it  won't  be  very  long  at  that.  When  I  git  through,  you 
kin  talk  'til  everybody  gits  tired  and  leaves,  if  you 
want  to." 

The  great  day  arrived  and  the  crowd  taxed  the 
capacity  of  the  house.  Peggy,  her  father,  Ruth,  Molly 
Anderson,  and  Doctor  Weston  occupied  seats  in  the 
"Amen  corner." 

The  chairman  of  the  meeting  announced  the  terms  of 
the  debate,  and  introduced  the  Honorable  Amos  Fuller, 
the  present  faithful  representative  of  the  county  in  the 
Legislature,  seeking  a  re-election.  There  was  much 
hand-clapping,  and  the  honorable  gentleman  felt  greatly 
flattered. 

After  complimenting  everybody  in  general,  and  the 
ladies  in  particular,  he  proceeded  to  flay  Anderson 
alive. 

"My  honorable  opponent,"  he  shouted,  laying  great 
stress  on  "honorable,"  "asks  you  to  replace  a  faithful 
servant  by  electing  him.  When  he  asks  you  to  do  this 
unusual  thing  he  puts  himself  up  as  a  target  to  be  shot 
at,  and  I  propose  to  fill  his  character  so  full  of  holes 
that  it  won't  hold  shucks." 

"Hurrah  for  Fuller !  Give  it  to  the  old  scoundrel, 
Amos,"  was  shouted  by  a  few  of  his  henchmen. 

"No,  fellow  citizens,"  he  continued,  warming  up  to 
his  subject,  "I  won't  fill  his  character  with  holes,  I'll 
just  rub  the  whitewash  off  so  you  can  see  them." 

Much  laughter  greeted  this  sally  of  the  speaker. 

"Cliff  Anderson,  the  King  of  the  Wild  Catters  !  How 
would  that   sound   in   the   halls   of  your   Legislature? 


Cliff  Anderson  Enters  Politics  291 

He  has  made  enough  wildcat  liquor  to  float  a  battle- 
ship in,  and  sold  it  for  filthy  lucre,  debauching  the 
noble  youths  of  our  land." 

The  speaker  was  quite  overcome  by  his  emotions, 
reached  for  the  handkerchief  in  his  hip  pocket,  and 
dried  his  eyes. 

"Pardon  me  for  this  momentary  exhibition  of  weak- 
ness, fellow  citizens,  but  the  evils  of  whiskey  are  so 
great  that  I  can  never  discuss  the  subject  without 
yielding  to  those  emotions  that  I  am  sure  fill  every 
heart  here  except  the  reprobate  heart  of  this  old  wild 
catter,  who  claims  that  he  has  reformed,  after  he  got 
all  the  money  he  needs,  and  stands  with  one  foot  in 
the  grave. 

"That  ain't  the  worst  of  it,"  shouted  the  thoroughly 
excited  gentleman.     "He  is  a  thief !  and  I  can  prove  it." 

"Hit  'im,  Cliff!  hit  'im !"  some  of  Anderson's  old 
friends  urged,  while  others  jeered,  saying,  "We  alius 
knowed  he  wus  crooked." 

"Prove  it !  Prove  it !"  persisted  the  Fuller  claquers. 

"All  right,  I'll  do  it.  He  stole  that  young  lady  there 
when  she  was  just  two  years  old,"  pointing  a  long, 
bony  finger  at  Ruth.  "If  it  ain't  so,  stand  up  and 
deny  it.  Cliff  Anderson !"  he  fairly  hissed  in  Ander- 
son's ear,  standing  on  tiptoe,  leaning  far  over,  with 
his  finger  almost  touching  the  tip  of  Anderson's  nose. 

It  was  a  moment  of  breathless  suspense. 

Anderson  was  known  far  and  wide  as  a  dangerous 
fighting  man,  and  everyone  expected  that  he  would 
fell  his  antagonist  with  one  blow  of  his  powerful  fist. 
He  did  not  stir ;  the  muscles  of  his  face  twitched  con- 
vulsively, he  gripped  the  edge  of  the  chair  on  which 
he  sat  with  both  bands,  and  Peggy  caught  the  glimpse 
of  an  angry  tear  stealing  down  his  cheek. 

"Your  time  is  up,  Mr.  Fuller,"  warned  the  chairman. 


292  Peggy    Ware 

"I  thank  you,  ladies  and  gentlemen,"  he  obsequi- 
ously observed.  "I  hope  you  will  remain  and  hear  my 
rejoinder." 

He  sat  down  much  pleased  with  himself,  while  the 
crowd  clapped  their  hands,  stamping  the  floor  with 
their  feet. 

"Ladies- and  gentlemen,  this  is  Cliff  Anderson,"  said 
the  chairman.     "He  will  speak  for  himself." 

Slowly  the  old  man  rose,  and  his  knees  were  trem- 
bling violently.  The  perspiration  stood  in  beads  on 
his  forehead,  and  he  was  forced  to  use  his  handker- 
chief frequently.  His  voice  was  husky,  his  hands  were 
in  his  way,  while  his  feet  were  at  least  twice  their 
usual  size. 

A  pitcher  of  water  and  a  glass  stood  on  a  small 
table.  He  seized  the  pitcher  to  pour  out  a  drink  of 
water,  but  in  his  excitement  he  placed  it  to  his  lips, 
took  a  long  swallow,  and  set  it  down.  The  crowd 
roared,  adding  greatly  to  his  confusion. 

"That's  the  way  he  used  to  take  his  liquor,"  said 
Fuller,  derisively.  The  uproar  increased  at  this  fresh 
display  of  wit  on  the  part  of  his  opponent. 

"And  that's  whare  you  told  a  lie,"  said  Anderson, 
looking  squarely  into  the  shifting  eyes  of  the  lawyer. 

"You  had  better  be  careful  about  who  you  call  a 
liar,  Mr.  Anderson,"  weakly  protested  his  opponent. 

"Oh,  I'll  be  keerful  enough,"  responded  Anderson. 
"Don't  worry.  I  never  took  a  drink  of  licker  in  my 
life.  I  alius  made  it  fer  fools  like  you  to  drink,  Mr. 
Fuller." 

"I  don't  drink,  Anderson.  Everybody  knows  I'm 
a  prohibitionist,"  said  the  lawyer,  looking  about 
sheepishly. 

"He  said  I'd  made  enough  whiskey  to  float  a  battle- 
ship in,  an'  mebbe  I  have.     I've  sold  him  enough  to 


Cliff  Anderson  Enters  Politics  293 

tan  his  hide  in,  if  he  was  as  big  as — as  an  elephant. 
An'  the  wust  part  of  it  is  he  ain't  paid  me  fer  it,  an' 
when  I  threatened  to  sue  him  he  said  he  would  plead 
the  statute  of  limitations  !" 

"Hear!  Hear!  Hurrah  for  the  old  tiger!"  and  kin- 
dred exclamations  of  encouragement  greeted  the 
speaker. 

"He's  a  prohibitionist  all  right,  but  he  wants  to  pro- 
hibit the  other  fellow  from  getting  licker  by  drinking  it 
all  himself,  and  then  prohibit  the  man  that  sold  it  to 
him  from  collecting  his  money.  Yes,  he's  a  double- 
dyed,  double-crossed  sort  of  prohibitionist. 

"He's  got  a  bottle  of  whiskey  in.  his  inside  coat 
pocket  this  very  minute,  fellow  citizens." 

"You're  a  liar,  Cliff  Anderson.  If  I  have,  I'll  quit 
this  race." 

"All  right,  Mr.  Fuller;  let  me  search  you." 

"Don't  touch  me,  Anderson.  I  don't  allow  any  man 
to  lay  his  hands  on  me."  He  reached  toward  his  pistol 
pocket,  and  the  audience  began  to  scramble  for  the 
door. 

"Keep  your  seats,  folks,"  commanded  Anderson, 
"he's  never  shot  anybody  yet  but  himself.  I've  seen 
him  half  shot  many  a  time." 

Anderson  clasped  the  angry  man  around  the  shoul- 
ders with  his  left  arm,  holding  him  like  a  vice,  while 
with  his  right  hand  he  threw  back  the  lappel  of  Fuller's 
coat,  exposing  the  neck  of  a  bottle. 

"Here  she  is,  fellow  citizens,"  he  said,  gleefully,  as 
he  extracted  the  bottle  from  the  pocket  of  the  squirm- 
ing lawyer.  "I'll  pour  it  out  in  this  glass,  so's  you  all 
can  smell  it.  It  ain't  good,  like  I  used  to  make,"  he 
said.  "I  guess  it's  got  pine  tops  and  buckeye  in  it,  for 
it  stinks  like  a  polecat." 


294  Peggy    Ware 

Pandemonium  broke  loose.  Anderson  released  his 
opponent,  who  grabbed  his  hat  and  made  a  bee-line 
for  the  door.  "I  refuse  to  listen  further  to  the  harangue 
of  a  blackguard,"  he  shouted  angrily,  as  he  made  his 
exit,  followed  by  the  hoots  and  jeers  of  the  entire  audi- 
ence, except  his  henchmen.  One  by  one  they  stole 
out  to  join  their  fallen  chieftain  on  the  outside. 

When  order  had  been  restored,  Anderson  went  on  : 

"When  he  stooped  over  to  pint  his  finger  in  my  face," 
he  said,  "I  saw  the  neck  of  his  bottle,  on  his  inside  coat 
pocket,  and  I  knowed  I  had  him. 

"I'm  now  gwine  to  tell  you  about  stealin'  the  child, 
and  I  ain't  gwine  to  deny  it.    I'll  tell  you  how  it  wus." 

In  simple  language,  he  told  his  audience  of  his  fight 
with  the  two  gypsies  for  the  possession  of  Ruth,  of 
his  race  to  the  steamboat  landing  to  evade  the  revenue 
officers,  and  the  subsequent  events  leading  up  to  the 
present  moment. 

"She  is  here,"  he  said,  "and  so  are  her  father,  sister 
and  husband  that's  goin'  to  be.  Ef  they  are  all  fer 
me,  I  want  'em  to  stan'  up." 

"We  are  all  for  you,"  they  said  in  unison,  as  they 
rose  to  their  feet. 

"Now  everybody  that  feels  the  same  way,  please 
rise,"  he  said.  Everyone  stood  up  amidst  the  greatest 
enthusiasm. 

"Now,  I  am  goin'  to  talk  about  the  issue  for  a  few 
minutes,  for  I  want  all  of  you  to  know  why  you  are 
voting  for  me." 

Briefly  he  explained  the  aims  of  the  Peggy  Ware 
School,  and  told  of  what  had  already  been  accomplished. 

"About  a  dozen  of  your  boys  and  gals  are  down 
there  at  school  now,  and  we  want  that  many  more 
next  year,  but  in  order  to  take  care  of  them  we  need 
more  money.     I   think  the   State  ought  to  give  it  to 


Cliff  Anderson  Enters  Politics  295 

us,  because  every  dollar  goes  for  your  kids,  and  it's 
your  money.     So  why  not  give  it  to  them?" 

The  meeting  was  over  and  everybody  wanted  to 
shake  the  speaker's  hand  and  give  assurance  of  support. 
He  scarcely  seemed  to  hear  or  see  anyone.  He  was 
waiting  the  approval  of  the  one  whose  sympathetic 
hand-clasp  meant  more  to  him  than  the  plaudits  of 
the  world. 

"Nobly  done,  Mr.  Anderson.  It  was  the  grandest 
speech  I  ever  heard.  I  am  proud  of  you !"  Peggy 
held  out  her  two  hands  and  took  Anderson's  big  right 
hand  between  them.  He  felt  the  thrill  that  came  from 
her  understanding  heart. 

"It's  all  right  now,  Miss  Peggy,"  he  said.  "I  don't 
want  to  go  to  France.     I'm  going  to  the  Legislature." 

There  were  no  more  joint  discussions  after  the  first 
meeting.  Fuller  conducted  a  "gum  shoe"  campaign, 
telling  the  people  that  it  was  beneath  his  dignity  to 
recognize  an  ignorant  old  wild  catter  by  engaging  in  a 
public  controversy  with  him. 

Anderson  continued  to  tell  the  people  in  a  straight- 
forward, simple  way  the  things  that  he  advocated. 

Election  day  finally  arrived  with  a  sweeping  victory 
for  Cliff  Anderson  and  the  Peggy  Ware  School. 

A  telephone  line  had  been  installed  from  the  county 
seat  to  Bucks  Pocket,  and  as  the  returns  kept  piling 
up  Anderson's  majority,  there  was  great  rejoicing. 
Only  Cliff  Anderson  seemed  depressed. 

"You  don't  seem  to  be  happy  over  the  result,  Mr. 
Anderson,"  said  Peggy.  Don't  you  think  it  a  glorious 
victory?" 

"That's  what  pesters  me,  Miss  Peggy,"  he  replied 
gloomily.  "It  is  a  big  thing  for  the  Peggy  Ware 
School,  if  I  can  put  our  bill  through  in  the  Legisla- 


296  Peggy    Ware 

ture.     It's  a   pow'ful   big  load  fer   me  to  tote,   and  I 
know  I  ain't  competent." 

"When  I  get  down  to  Montgomery,  amongst  all  them 
educated  guys,  most  of  them  slick  lawyers,  I'm  a-feard 
they'll  jest  laugh  my  bill  out  of  countenance.  I  know 
they'll  make  all  manner  of  fun  of  me,  but  I  can  stand 
that,  if  they  will  jest  pass  our  appropriation." 

He  had  come  up  to  Peggy's  Shrine  of  Silence,  which 
he  had  never  entered,  always  standing  outside  the 
door,  with  head  bared,  while  talking  to  Peggy.  When 
invited  to  enter,  he  would  say:    "No,  I  ain't  fitten." 

This  time  he  had  entered,  and  was  seated  near  a 
window  from  which  he  could  obtain  a  marvelous  view 
of  the  Tennessee  river  and  its  broad  valley,  with  the 
blue  mountain  ranges  in  the  distance. 

"It's  the  most  peacefulest  feelin'  I  ever  had  in  my 
life,"  said  he,  "as  I  set  here,  lookin'  out  at  them  moun- 
tains beyond  the  river.  Why,  I've  most  lost  all  fear 
of  them  fellers  down  at  Montgomery.  What  is  it 
makes  me  have  this  feelin',  Miss  Peggy?" 

"Mr.  Anderson,"  she  said,  "it  is  because  I  have  never 
had  a  thought  in  this  room  except  of  absolute  faith  in 
God.  Thoughts  are  the  most  potential  forces  in  the 
world,  and  this  Shrine  of  Silence,  as  I  am  pleased  to 
call  it,  is  filled  with  thoughts  of  love,  peace,  joy,  faith. 
It  is  here  that  I  meet  God  face  to  face,  just  as  surely 
as  I  shall  ever  meet  Him  in  all  the  eternity  yet  to 
come,  and  today  is  just  as  much  a  part  of  eternity  as 
any  other  day  will  ever  be. 

"So  I  live  in  this  thought  in  this  room,  and  it  is 
here  I  get  the  strength  and  wisdom  for  my  work.  If 
we  will  allow  Him,  God  will  fill  us  with  His  wisdom 
at  all  times,  and  we  never  need  be  at  a  loss  as  to  the 
course  to  pursue." 


Cliff  Anderson  Enters  Politics  297 

"That's  what  you  call  prayin',  ain't  it,  Miss  Peggy?" 
asked  Anderson,  looking  earnestly  at  her,  "prayin' 
without  talkin'?" 

"That's  the  only  kind  of  prayin'  I  could  do,  fer  I 
ain't  edycated  well  enough  to  talk  to  God.  I've  heard 
them  long-winded  prayers  whare  the  feller  would 
holler  so  loud  you  could  a-heard  him  at  least  a  mile, 
an'  I  alius  said  it  warn't  half  loud  enough  fer  God 
to  hear,  or  it  wits  so  loud,  an'  so  many  of  'em  yellin'  at 
the  same  time  that  He  would  stop  His  ears." 

"You  don't  need  to  talk  to  God  in  words,"  said 
Peggy.  "God  is  a  spirit,  and  we  worship  Him  in 
spirit.     Do  you  understand  that,  Mr.  Anderson?" 

"You  mean  that  God  ain't  jest  a  big  man,  but  is 
somethin'  I  feel  inside  sometimes  when  I'm  thinkin'  of 
all  the  good  things  that's  been  done  here  in  Bucks 
Pocket?  Ef  that's  what  you  mean,  then  I  think  I 
know  what  prayin'  is.  I  heerd  you  say  once  to  the 
boys  and  gals  that  'prayer  is  the  soul's  sincere  desire.' 
I  been  turnin'  that  over  in  my  mind  ever  sence,  an'  ef 
that's  prayin',  I'm  doin'  my  best." 

"That's  what  I  mean,  Mr.  Anderson.  You  under- 
stand it,  and  your  life  is  showing  the  fruit  of  your 
understanding. 

"You  have  nothing  to  fear  when  you  go  to  Mont- 
gomery. If  it  is  right  for  the  school  to  have  this  appro- 
priation, your  bill  will  pass.  If  the  money  ought  to 
come  from  some  other  source,  then  good  and  well.  We 
know  that  we  shall  get  it.  We  do  our  part  when  we 
walk  in  the  light  as  we  see  it,  and  use  the  means  at 
hand  to  accomplish  our  ends." 

"I'm  goin'  in  that  faith,  Miss  Peggy,"  said  the  big 
man,  as  he  arose  to  take  his  departure,  an'  ef  it's  God's 
will,  I'll  bring  home  the  bacon." 


298  Peggy     Ware 

The  "bringing  home  of  the  bacon"  was  not  accom- 
plished without  much  difficulty,  and  furnishes  one  of 
the  many  interesting  episodes  of  the  early  history  of 
the  Peggy  Ware  School. 

Cliff  Anderson's  appearance  on  the  floor  of  the  lower 
house  of  the  legislative  body  was  quite  an  event.  He 
was  the  only  ex-Confederate  soldier,  and,  so  far  as 
known,  the  only  ex-wild  catter. 

Prohibition  was  a  burning  issue,  and  practically  the 
entire  body  had  been  elected  on  a  radical  prohibition 
platform.  Anderson  had  not  defined  his  position  in  his 
campaign.  When  pressed  for  his  views,  his  answer 
invariably  was  that  no  whiskey  was  made  or  drunk  in 
Bucks  Pocket,  and  if  this  fact  did  not  speak  for  him,  it 
would  be  useless  to  make  any  assertions  as  to  what  he 
thought  about  the  evils  of  whiskey. 

Anderson  still  clung  to  his  "home-  spun"  clothes,  and 
when  he  appeared  at  the  speaker's  desk  to  take  the 
oath  of  office,  he  was  attired  in  a  suit  of  gray  jeans, 
woven  and  fashioned  by  his  wife.  A  woolen  shirt  with 
a  soft  turn-down  collar,  a  big  black  bow  tie,  high  boots, 
in  which  his  trousers  were  stuffed,  and  a  broad- 
brimmed,  soft  hat  completed  his  outfit. 

"Wrho  is  the  big  guy,  still  wearing  home-made 
clothes?"  was  whispered  through  the  galleries. 

"An  old  wild  catter  from  the  mountains  of  North 
Alabama,"  some  one  volunteered,  and  it  was  passed 
along  until  every  one  was  duly  informed. 

The  speaker  of  the  house  was  friendly  to  Anderson. 
He  had  visited  the  Peggy  Ware  School,  and  was  favor- 
able to  the  appropriation,  but  being  a  shrewd  politi- 
cian, he  kept  this  to  himself.  He  had  the  highest 
esteem  for  Anderson,  because  his  father  and  Anderson 
had  both  fought  under  Lee,  and  Anderson  had  ren- 
dered his  mother  a  service  at  the  close  of  the  war. 


Cuff  Anderson  Enters  Politics  299 

He  also  understood  the  Governor's  views,  and  it  was 
through  the  speaker's  influence  that  Anderson's  bill 
was  reported  out  of  the  committee  that  had  it  in  charge. 
The  report  was  a  unanimous  one  against  the  bill,  but 
it  gave  Anderson  an  opportunity  to  get  his  measure 
before  the  house.  The  speaker  had  told  the  committee 
that  this  doubtless  would  be  the  end  of  the  matter,  but 
it  would  please  the  old  man  and  do  no  harm. 

When  the  bill  was  reported,  the  speaker  politely 
turned  to  Anderson  and  asked  him  if  he  desired  to 
discuss  the  measure,  informing  him  that  he  would  have 
the  right  to  open  and  close  the  debate. 

Laboring  under  great  embarrassment,  Anderson 
seemed  unable  to  find  himself.  His  effort  was  a  fail- 
ure, and  he  felt  it  more  keenly  than  anyone. 

As  two  hours  had  been  set  apart  for  the  discussion 
of  the  bill,  and  the  author  had  consumed  but  ten  min- 
utes, some  of  the  younger  members  who  had  not  had 
an  opportunity  to  air  their  eloquence,  took  occasion  to 
poke  fun  at  Anderson  and  his  measure.  One  of  them 
even  chided  him  as  being  a  friend  of  whiskey.  An- 
other said  that  he  was  a  Rip  Van  Winkle,  living  in  a 
past  age,  still  wearing  the  gray  home-made  jeans  of 
fifty  years  ago. 

"We  have  public  schools  for  the  education  of  the 
boys  and  girls,"  he  said,  "and  we  don't  need  this  Peggy 
Ware  School,  with  a  slip  of  a  girl  as  its  president,  and 
a  whole  lot  of  new  fangled  ideas  about  education, 
religion,  and  Heaven  knows  what  else." 

Cliff  Anderson  had  sat  through  the  ridicule  and  mis- 
representation unmoved,  outwardly ;  sometimes  his 
eyes  were  closed,  and  a  look  of  peace  radiated  from  his 
features. 

"Do  you  desire  to  say  anything  further  before  the 


300  Peggy    Ware 

vote  is  taken,"  kindly  inquired  the  speaker,  as  he  looked 
pityingly  at  the  old  veteran. 

To  the  surprise  of  everyone,  another  Cliff  Anderson 
stood  in  their  midst.  He  was  no  longer  awkward  or 
embarrassed.  His  voice  was  strong  and  resonant. 
His  first  sentence  electrified  his  hearers.  "I've  faced  a 
thousand  Yankee  guns  on  the  battlefield,"  he  said,  "and 
I  never  dodged  a  bullet  or  run  a  step,  an'  I  don't  know 
why  I  should  be  skeered  at  all  you  fellers  because  you 
are  edycated  and  got  on  store  clothes.  Take  yore 
book  larnin'  away  frum  you,  and  take  off  yore  clothes, 
an'  I  wouldn't  be  a-feard  of  the  whole  bunch. 

"I'm  here  to  talk  fur  the  folks  that  ain't  got  no  edy- 
cation  or  store  clothes  either,  an'  I'm  going  to  talk  to 
you,  jest  man  to  man,  fer  I  am  yore  equal  in  every- 
thing that  God  can  give  a  man.  What  I  want  is  to 
make  our  mountain  boys  and  gals  the  equal  with  yours 
in  them  things  that  God  don't  give  people. 

"They  ain't  no  better  blood  in  the  world  than  we've 
got  up  in  the  mountains.  They  ain't  no  purer  women 
or  braver  men,  but  they  ain't  had  no  chance. 

"There  are  more  than  half  the  men  and  women  that 
can't  write  their  names,  and  the  boys  and  gals,  lots  of 
them,  are  growin'  up  the  same  way. 

"The  only  schools  that  amount  to  anything  are  in 
the  towns  and  big  settlements,  and  that  don't  reach 
places  like  Bucks  Pocket.  There  are  thousands  of 
boys  and  gals  in  our  mountains  that  won't  never  see 
inside  a  school  house,  if  they  don't  go  to  the  Peggy 
Ware  School. 

"What  Peggy  Ware  has  already  done  is  worth  more 
than  all  the  money  the  Legislature  would  give  it  if  it 
appropriated  every  year  for  a  hundred  years  the  amount 
I  ask  in  this  bill.  If  you  could  see  the  change  in 
Bucks  Pocket,  and  our  mountain  country,  where  Peggy 


Cliff  Anderson  Entfrs  Politics  301 

Ware's  influence  has  been  felt,  you  would  vote  unani- 
mously for  my  bill. 

"Somethin'  was  said  about  whiskey,  an'  I  want  to 
tell  you  what  Peggy  Ware  has  done  for  Bucks  Pocket. 
I  recon  it  used  to  be  the  wust  place  fer  wildcat  licker 
in  the  State,  an'  that's  about  all  we  had  there — wild- 
cat whiskey  and  hell. 

"They  ain't  a  drop  in  ten  miles  of  Bucks  Pocket,  an' 
ef  a  man  brought  a  bottle  into  the  community,  he 
would  be  disgraced.  It's  all  due  to  Peggy  Ware,  too. 
She  ain't  never  preached  prohibition.  I  never  heard 
her  say  prohibition  in  my  life.  She  jest  teaches  what 
she  calls  right  thinkin',  clean  thinkin',  and  clean  livin'. 
I  can't  explain  it  to  you  like  she  could,  but  I  know  it's 
cleaned  out  Bucks  Pocket,  and  it's  the  most  peaceful, 
law  abiding  community  in  the  State. 

"One  gentleman  said  that  Miss  Peggy  had  new  fan- 
gled  ideas,  but  if  they  work  everywhere  like  they  do 
in  Bucks  Pocket,  I  think  it  would  be  a  good  thing  to 
spread  the  doctrine.  This  is  jest  what  we  are  aimin' 
to  do  up  thare.  Spread  it  all  over  the  mountains  of 
our  beloved  South,  and  mebbe  it  will  drift  down  into 
the  towns  and  cities." 

As  Anderson  warmed  to  his  subject,  he  towered  like 
one  of  the  peaks  of  his  own  mountains.  One  member, 
nudged  another  and  whispered  :  'He  looks  like  a  cliff, 
don't  he?     His  name  is  quite  appropriate." 

He  was  winning  his  way  with  the  members,  and  it 
was  evident  that  many  had  been  won  over  to  his  sup- 
port, while  others  were  on  the  fence. 

The  speaker  of  the  house,  who  had  watched  the 
change  in  sentiment  wrought  by  Anderson's  earnest- 
ness, now  determined  to  throw  the  weight  of  his  influ- 
ence on  the  side  of  the  Peggy  Ware  School. 

"I   am  going  to  ask  the  gentleman  to  occupy  the 


302  Peggy    Ware 

speaker's  chair  while  I  address  the  house,"  he  said, 
beckoning  Anderson  to  come  forward. 

Anderson  stood  as  if  he  were  incapable  of  either 
speech  or  motion,  until  the  speaker  stepped  from  the 
stand,  took  the  old  man  firmly  by  the  arm  and  almost 
dragged  him  to  the  speaker's  chair.  There  was  loud 
hand-clapping  and  cries  of  "Hurrah  for  Anderson  !" 

"I  want  to  pay  a  tribute  to  this  gallant  old  Confed- 
erate soldier,"  said  the  speaker.  "He  and  my  father 
were  both  with  Lee  in  Virginia,  and  my  father  fell 
mortally  wounded  the  day  before  Lee's  surrender  to 
Grant. 

"Mr.  Anderson  belonged  to  the  infantry,  and  my 
father  to  the  cavalry,  so  Anderson  owned  no  horse.  He 
took  charge  of  my  father's  horse,  brought  it  to  Alabama 
down  to  the  black  belt,  where  my  mother  lived,  turned 
it  over  to  her,  and  then  walked  back  to  his  home  in  the 
mountains  of  North  Alabama,  a  distance  of  over  two 
hundred  miles,  and  he'was  barefooted.  I  plowed  with 
the  horse  and  made  a  crop  and  kept  the  family  from 
starving. 

"Mr.  Anderson  might  have  kept  the  horse.  No  one 
would  ever  have  known  it,  and  made  a  crop  for  his  own 
widowed  mother.  Instead  of  doing  that,  he  plowed  with 
an  ox,  and  I  want  to  say  that  no  more  gallant  soldier 
ever  wore  the  Confederate  uniform  than  Cliff  Ander- 
son ;  and  today  I  honor  him  and  the  gray  homespun 
suit  he  wears,  and  I  am  going  to  show  my  respect  and 
appreciation  in  a  small  way  by  voting  for  his  bill. 

"I  have  visited  the  Peggy  Ware  School.  I  have 
talked  to  Peggy  Ware,  and  I  unhesitatingly  state  that 
in  my  humble  judgment,  hers  is  the  greatest  institution 
of  its  kind  in  the  South,  and  that  she  is  the  finest, 
noblest  Christian  young  woman  I  have  ever  met." 

The  opposition  vanished,  the  vote  for  the  bill  was 


Cliff  Anderson  Entfrs  Politics  303 

practically  unanimous,  and  Cliff  Anderson  was  the 
beau  ideal  of  the  Legislature. 

When  the  governor  signed  the  bill,  Anderson  said : 
"Let  me  take  the  pen  with  which  you  signed  your 
name  to  Miss  Peggy.  I  am  sure  she'll  frame  it  and  put 
it  in  her  Shrine  of  Silence." 

"I  want  to  congratulate  you,  Cliff  Anderson,"  said 
the  governor  cordially.  "I  knew  you  had  the  right 
mettle  when  I  urged  you  to  make  the  race  for  the  Leg- 
islature. I  wish  every  community  had  a  Peggy  Ware 
and  a  Cliff  Anderson.  What  a  transformation  we  would 
witness." 

"It's  all  Miss  Peggy,  governor.  I'd  a  still  been  makin' 
wildcat  licker  ef  God  hadn't  sent  her  to  Bucks  Pocket." 

"I'm  sorry  you  are  not  a  prohibitionist,  Anderson," 
said  the  governor,  winking  slyly  at  his  secretary. 
"That's  all  you  lack  of  being  admitted  into  the  inner 
circle." 

"Wall,  governor,  I  hated  them  revenoo  officers  so 
long  I  guess  I  can't  jest  make  up  my  mind  to  run  with 
the  gang.  I  don't  ever  think  I'll  feel  right  amongst 
all  them  saints  and  near-saints.  I'll  jest  stay  out  with 
the  goats  and  help  along  with  the  Peggy  Ware  School, 
where  the  boys  and  gals  are  not  taught  'don't,'  but 
'do.'  There  ain't  a  motto  on  the  walls  that  says  'thou 
shalt  not,'  but  everyone  reads  'thou  shalt.'  If  you  get 
enough  of  'thou  shalt'  in  a  fellow's  hide,  there  ain't  no 
room  for  'white  lightnin',  an'  he  ain't  got  no  taste  for 
it  either." 

"You  know,  governor,  my  county  was  the  first  one 
in  the  State  to  adopt  prohibition.  That  was  forty 
years  ago.  I  just  got  my  home  paper  today,  containing 
a  report  of  the  grand  jury.     I  want  you  to  read  it." 

There  were  several  members  of  the  Legislature 
gathered  in  the  governor's  office  to  witness  the  signing 


304  Peggy    Ware 

of  Anderson's  bill.  To  them  the  governor  read  the 
grand  jury  report: 

"We  have  endeavored  to  make  an  extensive  and 
thorough  investigation  of  the  violation  of  the  prohibi- 
tion laws  in  this  county,  in  keeping  with  your  honor's 
charge.  We  find  that  there  are  illicit  distilleries  in 
almost  every  community  in  the  county,  some  of  them 
located  almost  in  the  shadow  of  the  schools  and 
churches  of  the  county,  and  we  further  find  that  many 
citizens  of  this  county  who  have  heretofore  enjoyed 
the  confidence  and  the  respect  of  the  law-abiding  peo- 
ple are  now  engaged  in  distilling  or  are  lending  their 
aid,  directly  or  indirectly,  to  those  who  are  violating 
the  prohibition  laws.  We  find  that  many  distillers 
and  bootleggers  are  selling  whiskey  to  the  boys  over 
the  country,  some  of  whom  are  almost  children  in 
knee  trousers.  We  further  find  prohibited  liquors  be- 
ing transported  over  the  county,  not  by  quarts  and 
gallons,  but  by  barrels,  and  we  have  discovered  in 
more  than  one  instance  where  it  has  been  stored  in 
large  quantities.  We  have  had  many  men  before  the 
grand  jury  who  pose  as  being  good,  law-abiding  citi- 
zens, who  we  have  every  reason  to  believe  and  know 
testified  falsely  for  the  purpose  of  protecting  distill- 
ers and  bootleggers.  We  have  heard  and  seen  enough 
during  our  investigations  this  week  to  know  that  the 
county  is  in  a  most  deplorable  condition.  We  find 
that  men  who  have  enjoyed  public  trust  are  using  their 
automobiles  and  other  conveyances  in  transporting 
whiskey  over  the  county." 

"Ef  that's  the  condition  after  forty  years  of  bone 
dry  prohibition,  don't  you  think,  Governor,  that  the 
Peggy  Ware  plan  is  worth  tryin'?"  said  Anderson 
earnestly.  "I  ain't  agin  prohibition,  but  I'm  fur  pre- 
vention.    The  only  dry  spot  in  our  county  is  Bucks 


Cliff  Anderson  Enters  Politics  305 

Pocket,  an'  nobody  ain't  never  made  a  prohibition 
speech  thare.  Onr  boys  an'  gals  wouldn't  tech  the 
stuff  any  more  than  they  would  pizen." 

"After  all,  Anderson,  I  think  you  are  a  pretty  good 
sort  of  prohibitionist,"  said  the  Governor.  "Goodbye 
and  God  bless  you." 

"I  recon'  you  might  call  me  a  preventionist,"  said 
Anderson  as  he  took  leave  of  the  Governor. 


Chapter  Twenty 
PEGGY  GOES  TO  WASHINGTON 

THE  filming  of  "Peggy  Ware"  had  been  com- 
pleted, the  cutting  and  sub-titling  was  done,  and 
after  several  showings  in  the  projection  room, 
it  had  been  pronounced  perfect.  Winslow  and  Crans- 
ton regarded  it  as  their  masterpiece.  It  had  been  run 
in  all  the  Community  Center  houses,  and  everywhere 
had  aroused  the  greatest  enthusiasm.  They  were  now 
anxious  to  submit  it  to  the  supreme  test,  the  verdict 
of  the  public. 

After  spending  some  time  in  New  York  and  Wash- 
ington, Winslow  and  Cranston  finally  determined  to 
give  "Peggy  Ware"  its  premiere  exhibition  in  one  of 
the  largest  motion  picture  houses  in  the  capitol  city 
of  the  Nation.  This  conclusion  was  partially  induced 
by  reason  of  the  fact  that  the  President  had  written 
Peggy,  expressing  his  appreciation  of  the  patriotic 
services  she  had  rendered  her  country  in  ending  the 
slacker  war  in  Bucks  Pocket  without  bloodshed. 

He  further  stated  that  he  had  asked  to  be  informed 
of  the  record  of  these  men  in  France,  and  was  pleased 
to  know  that  there  were  no  better  soldiers  serving 
overseas. 

He  expressed  the  keenest  interest  in  the  Peggy  Ware 
School,  and  promised  his  assistance  in  any  way  pos- 
sible. The  letter  ended  with  a  pressing  invitation  to 
Peggy  to  visit  the  capitol  as  the  guest  of  the  White 
House. 

306 


Peggy  Goes  to  Washington  307 

Winslow  and  Cranston,  keenly  alive  to  the  pub- 
licity value  of  the  patronage  of  the  President,  ar- 
ranged for  a  private  showing  of  their  picture  at  which 
the  President's  private  secretary  was  present.  His 
report  was  so  favorable  that  the  President  consented 
to  be  present  at  its  first  exhibition,  if  Peggy  would 
also  attend  as  his  guest. 

When  this  news  was  carried  to  Bucks  Pocket,  it 
was  the  cause  of  intense  excitement.  The  newspapers 
published  in  Washington  arrived  in  a  few  days  filled 
with  wonderful  stories  of  the  Peggy  Ware  School. 

Peggy  was  written  up  one  side  and  down  the  other, 
her  story  so  embellished  by  the  imagination  of  the 
gifted  reporters  who  had  built  a  fairy  structure  on  a 
very  simple  foundation,  that  she  wanted  to  decline  the 
invitation  to  the  White  House,  and  upset  the  entire 
plans  of  her  managers. 

She  told  her  father,  Anderson,  and  Doctor  Weston 
that  she  did  not  want  publicity  for  herself,  and  that 
she  shrank  from  going  to  Washington  under  the  false 
glamour  created  by  the  newspaper  stories. 

"I  don't  think  the  newspapers  have  overdrawn  the 
story  at  all,"  said  Doctor  Weston.  "You  don't  realize, 
Peggy,  what  an  unusual  woman  you  are,  and  what  a 
romantic  life  yours  has  been.  In  all  the  realms  of  fic- 
tion there  is  nothing  that  surpasses  it.  I  wish  you 
could  see  it  as  I  do." 

"It  all  seems  so  simple  to  me,  Doctor  Weston,  that 
I  don't  want  any  great  to-do  about  it.  I  have  done 
no  more  than  any  other  girl  with  the  same  opportuni- 
ties could  have  done,  and  this  is  the  big  fact  that  I 
want  to  keep  to  the  fore.  I  don't  want  this  lost  sight 
of  in  the  glamour  of  the  glorification  of  Peggy  Ware. 
You  know  that  all  I  have  done  was  to  use  the  forces 


308  Peggy    Ware 

that  are  available  to  every  soul,  and  this  is  my  mes- 
sage to  the  world." 

"Don't  you  think  Washington  City  will  be  a  good 
place  to  deliver  that  message,  Peggy?"  asked  her 
father.  "That  is  where  the  heart  of  the  nation  beats, 
and  you  will  have  an  opportunity  to  get  your  mes- 
sage over  where  it  will  do  the  most  good." 

"You  kin  tell  'em  fer  me,"  said  Cliff  Anderson,  "that 
when  the  reporters  have  wrote  everything  about  you 
and  the  Peggy  Ware  School,  they  kin  think  of,  they 
ain't  teched  sides  nor  bottom  of  what  you're  doin'. 
Ef  I  wus  writin'  it,  I'd  say  that  the  story  can't  be  fin- 
ished until  Gabe  blows  his  trumpet,  becase  this  work 
is  goin'  on  'til  then. 

"I  wus  out  in  the  center  of  the  mill  pond  tother 
day,  settin'  on  a  log  fishin',  an'  I  dropped  a  rock  in 
the  water,  an'  it  started  a  wave  in  a  circle,  an'  it  kept 
gittin'  bigger  an'  bigger  until  it  hit  the  bank  on  both 
sides  of  the  creek.  An'  I  said  that's  jes  like  the  work 
bein'  done  here;  it  will  jest  keep  on  a  spreadin'  ontil 
it  strikes  the  shores  of  Heaven." 

"That's  a  very  beautiful  thought,  Mr.  Anderson," 
said  Peggy,  "if  they  would  leave  me  out  of  it,  don't 
you  understand." 

"Yes,  Miss  Peggy,  I  think  I  understand  better  than 
you  do.  You  are  the  one  that  dropped  the  rock  in  the 
pond  that  started  the  wave,  an'  ef  you  hadn't  done  it, 
there  wouldn't  a  been  no  wave  to  talk  about  or  write 
about.  So  it's  perfectly  natural  that  everybody  wants 
to  know  all  about  the  feller  that  started  it,  and  when 
that  'feller'  is  a  beautiful  young  lady,  the  story  gits 
pow'ful  interestin'." 

"An'  when  she's  as  good  as  she's  purty,"  chimed  in 
Simon,  "it's  no  wondah  de  President  wants  her  to  come 
to  de  White  House." 


Peggy  Goes  to  Washington  309 

"How  wonderful  it  will  be,  Peggy.  I  almost  envy 
you.  Of  course,  I  couldn't  do  it,  because  you  are  the 
only  girl  in  the  world  that  could  live  up  to  the  part," 
enthusiastically  declared  Ruth. 

"I  am  afraid  I  cannot,  Ruth.  I  am  terribly  fright- 
ened this  minute,  and  don't  know  what  I  will  do  when 
I  get  to  Washington.  You  know  I  have  never  been 
anywhere,  and  I'm  afraid  I  won't  know  how  to  act  or 
what  to  say." 

"Don't  you  remember  the  sermon  you  preached  to 
me  when  I  had  to  go  down  to  Montgomery  to  the 
Legislature?"  asked  Anderson.  "How  you  told  me 
God  would  inspire  me?  I  recon'  He  did,  becase  I  got 
our  bill  through,  an'  ef  He  would  help  an  old  sinner 
like  me  out,  I  know  He  won't  desert  an  angel  like 
you." 

"Oh,  Peggy,  you  always  do  the  right  thing  and  say 
the  right  thing  and  you'll  be  the  sweetest,  purtiest 
girl  in  Washington,  and  all  the  young  men  will  be 
fallin'  in  love  with  you  an'  wantin'  to  marry  you," 
said  Molly  Anderson  with  a  motherly  pride  in  her  eyes. 

"Yes,  and  I'll  wager  that  she'll  be  getting  married 
and  bringing  her  fine,  handsome  husband  home  with 
her  one  of  these  days,"  said  Ruth,  thinking  of  her  own 
happiness  and  approaching  nuptials. 

A  look  of  pain  swept  over  Peggy's  face,  observed 
by  no  one  except  Doctor  Weston  and  Simon.  In  that 
one  glimpse  the  faithful  old  negro  read  the  tragic  story 
buried  in  Peggy's  heart.  Henceforth  he  would  carry 
her  cross  on  his  shoulders,  and  suffer  in  his  own  soul 
every  pang  she  felt. 

It  was  finally  settled  that  Peggy  should  go  to  Wash- 
ington. The  great  day  for  her  departure  arrived,  and 
the  entire  population  turned  out  to  wish  her  Godspeed. 
As  Ruth  kissed  her  goodbye,  she  whispered : 


310  Peggy     Ware 

"Remember  my  wedding  day,  and  don't  get  so  ab- 
sorbed in  the  pleasures  of  Washington  society  that 
you  will  overstay  your  time." 

As  Peggy  stepped  in  the  automobile  waiting  to  take 
her  to  the  railroad,  the  postman  handed  her  a  special 
delivery  letter,  bearing  a  French  postmark. 

"It's  from  Billy  Wooten,  I  hope,  and  I'll  have  the 
pleasure  of  reading  it  on  the  train,"  she  said. 

Once  more  Peggy  ascended  the  mountain  road  lead- 
ing from  Bucks  Pocket  just  as  the  sun  rose.  She  re- 
membered when  she,  Anderson  and  his  wife  had  made 
the  trip  to  the  County  Seat  town  in  Anderson's  new 
buggy,  over  an  almost  impassable  road  for  a  part  of 
the  way.  Now  it  was  a  splendid  boulevard,  bordered 
with  roses  for  the  entire  distance. 

Her  train  would  arrive  at  the  station  at  nine  o'clock, 
and  was  due  in  Washington  the  next  morning  at  seven 
o'clock. 

She  would  not  read  the  letter  from  France  until  she 
was  comfortably  settled  on  the  train.  Then  she  could 
enjoy  it  to  the  fullest  extent. 

Seated  in  the  Pullman  berth  reserved  for  her  to 
Washington,  she  listened  to  the  click-click  of  the  re- 
volving wheels,  giving  herself  up  to  the  luxurious  feel- 
ing of  nothing  to  do,  and  nothing  to  think  about  for 
twenty-four  hours,  except  to  follow  where  fancy  led. 

When  she  had  enjoyed  the  sensation  for  a  little 
while,  she  took  her  letter  with  the  French  postmark 
on  it  from  her  traveling  bag,  and  slowly  opened  it. 
At  first  glance  her  hand  began  to  tremble,  her  face 
blanched,  and  when  she  finished,  the  letter  slipped  from 
her  fingers.  She  buried  her  face  in  her  hands,  sobbing 
like  a  heart-broken  child. 

By  and  by  the  storm  subsided.  She  groped  on  the 
floor  and  found  the  letter,  placed  it  in  her  bosom,  and 


Peggy  Goes  to  Washington  311 

turned  her  tear-stained  face  toward  the  window  from 
which  she  could  see  historic  Lookout  Mountain  on  the 
East.  Thus  she  sat  through  the  long  day  as  the  train 
sped  through  the  mountains  of  Alabama,  Tennessee, 
and  North  Carolina,  her  heart  heavy  within  her. 

Peggy  was  not  often  sad,  for  she  had  found  the 
philosopher's  stone  of  happiness,  but  sometimes  the 
"weakness  of  the  flesh"  gets  the  upper  hand  of  the 
greatest  philosopher,  the  most  advanced  soul,  and  she 
was  human  after  all. 

When  night  settled  down  over  the  lofty  peaks  of 
the  Blue  Ridge  Mountains,  Peggy  sought  her  berth, 
her  thoughts  wandering  from  her  mother's  grave  in  the 
Cumberland  Mountains  to  her  loved  ones  in  Bucks 
Pocket,  and  then  far  over  the  sea  to  a  lonely  grave  in 
France  where  slept  Billy  Wooten. 

"Washington !  All  out  for  Washington !"  an- 
nounced the  porter,  the  next  morning  as  Peggy  with 
wildly  beating  heart  prepared  to  leave  the  train. 

On  the  platform  she  was  met  by  Winslow  and  Crans- 
ton, smiling  and  happy.  "It's  the  biggest  stunt  ever 
pulled  off  in  motion  pictures,"  Cranston  announced 
proudly. 

"And  you  are  the  biggest  sensation  in  Washing- 
ton," said  Winslow,  "not  even  barring  the  President." 

"Don't,  please  don't  talk  like  that.  I'll  regret  that 
I  ever  came  if  you  are  going  to  try  to  make  a  sensa- 
tion out  of  me." 

"We  are  not  doing  it,  Miss  Wrare,"  said  Cranston 
kindly.  "You  are  a  great  and  unusual  woman,  and 
don't  realize  it.  You  might  as  well  get  used  to  it,  for 
you  are  already  famous,  and  you'are  just  at  the  thresh- 
old of  your  career. 

"I  know  motion  picture  stars  that  would  give  a  mil- 
lion dollars  for  the  publicity  that  you  a~e  getting  with- 


312  Peggy    Ware 

out  money,  and  without  solicitation,  but  they  can  never 
have  it  because  they  did  not  lay  the  foundation  as  you 
have  done." 

"If  it  must  be  as  you  say,  and  I  cannot  escape  it, 
then  I  pray  God  it  will  all  be  for  the  benefit  of  the 
Peggy  Ware  School  and  our  mountain  boys  and  girls," 
devoutly  declared  Peggy. 

At  the  entrance  to  the  station,  a  swarm  of  reporters 
seeking  to  interview  Peggy  and  a  number  of  camera 
men  anxious  for  snap  shots,  awaited  her. 

"Please  don't  put  me  in  the  papers,"  she  pleaded. 

"I  know  United  States  Senators  that  would  give 
up  half  a  year's  salary  to  have  this  sort  of  reception," 
one  of  the  reporters  remarked  in  answer  to  Peggy's 
protest. 

"We'll  treat  you  fair,"  said  another. 

"Gee,  she's  a  beauty,"  remarked  a  third,  as  Peggy, 
blushing  furiously,  fled  to  a  waiting  taxicab. 

"Good-bye,  Miss  Ware,  you  have  captured  the  fra- 
ternity !"  they  shouted,  as  she  was  whirled  away  to 
her  hotel,  where  an  elegant  suite  had  been  reserved 
for  her. 

"This  is  shameful  extravagance,  and  is  entirely  out 
of  keeping  with  my  former  life  and  surroundings,"  she 
protested  as  she  was  ushered  into  the  luxuriously  fur- 
nished rooms  at  the  New  Willard.  "I  am  sure  I  would 
be  happier  back  home  in  my  attic  room  where  I  could 
look  out  of  the  little  window  and  see  the  winding  Ten- 
nessee." 

"The  die  is  cast,  Miss  Ware,  and  not  by  you.  It  is 
God's  will  that  you  should  play  a  big  part  in  this  world, 
and  you  should  be  thankful  that  He  has  chosen  you  as 
His  instrument,"  said  Winslow. 

"Then  let  us  thank  Him,"  declared  Peggy  as  she 
closed  her  eyes  and  bowed  her  head  in  silent  prayer. 


Peggy  Goes  to  Washington  313 

The  great  author  bowed  reverently,  his  soul  filled  with 
an  unspeakable  joy  and  peace  he  had  never  had  a  fore- 
taste of  until  he  went  to  Bucks  Pocket. 

"Now,"  he  said,  "for  the  joy  that  comes  after  labor 
well  done.  Accept  it  to  the  full,  for  you  have  earned 
it,  and  you  can  take  back  to  your  beloved  mountains 
what  you  will  find  here." 

Cranston  had  wTell  said  that  Peggy  would  be  the 
sensation  of  Washington.  Everywhere  she  went  she 
was  the  center  of  attraction. 

She  put  in  a  wonderful  day,  visiting  the  Capitol,  the 
Congressional  Library,  the  art  gallery,  the  Washing- 
ton monument,  Mount  Vernon,  the  home  of  the  Father 
of  his  country,  and  finally  the  White  House,  where  she 
was  ushered  into  the  presence  of  the  President.  He 
received  her  so  kindly,  and  was  so  sincerely  simple 
that  Peggy,  who  thought  she  would  almost  die  of 
fright,  was  soon  at  her  ease. 

For  half  an  hour  they  talked  animatedly  of  Peggy's 
work  in  the  Southern  mountains,  when  the  President 
announced  that  she  was  to  take  tea  at  the  White 
House  and  occupy  the  Presidential  box  that  night  at 
the  premiere  showing  of  "Peggy  Ware." 

"I  shall  feel  greatly  honored,  Miss  Ware,"  he  said, 
"by  your  presence.  You  are  doing  such  signal  service 
for  your  country  that  I  am  pleased  to  have  the  oppor- 
tunity of  publicly  showing  my  appreciation." 

Peggy  nad  not  given  a  thought  to  what  she  would 
wear  at  the  White  House  or  to  the  picture  show. 

When  she  saw  for  the  first  time  in  her  life  fashion- 
ably gowned  women,  she  realized  that  she  was  attract- 
ing far  more  attention  by  the  simplicity  of  her  dress 
than  she  would  have  done  by  the  most  elaborate  cos- 
tume. 

"Mr.  President,"  she  pleaded,  "I  am  not  dressed  for 


314  Peggy    Ware 

the  occasion.  I  have  just  realized  how  perfectly  ab- 
surd I  must  appear  to  everyone.  I  don't  want  to  em- 
barrass you  as  well  as  disgrace  myself.  Won't  you  be 
kind  enough  to  excuse  me  and  let  me  return  to  my 
hotel  and  catch  the  first  train  back  to  the  mountains 
where  I  belong?" 

"It  is  your  very  simplicity,  Miss  Ware,  that  adds  so 
immensely  to  your  charms,"  the  President  declared  en- 
thusiastically. "Your  dress  is  the  most  becoming  that 
you  could  possibly  wear.  When  you  stand  up  in  my 
box  tonight  you  will  be  the  envy  of  every  woman  in 
the  audience.  It  will  be  the  climax  of  the  evening's 
entertainment.  Don't  allow  yourself  to  be  anxious  or 
nervous.  You  are  just  like  I  would  have  you  if  you 
were  my  own  daughter,"  he  said  kindly,  taking  her 
hands  in  his. 

Reassured  by  the  President's  fatherly  sympathy, 
Peggy  managed  to  get  through  the  ordeal  of  tea  at 
the  White  House,  conscious  that  everyone  except  the 
President  regarded  her  with  poorly  concealed  amuse- 
ment. His  graciousness  reassured  her  from  time  to 
time,  and  kept  her  from  being  utterly  miserable. 

Not  until  she  peeped  out  from  the  President's  box 
and  scanned  Washington's  most  fashionable  audience, 
did  she  feel  that  she  must  slip  away  unnoticed,  before 
she  became  the  cynosure  for  all  those  hundreds  of 
critical  eyes. 

She  sat  huddled  in  the  corner  of  the  box,  shrinking 
back  in  the  shadow,  trying  to  conceal  herself  behind 
the  President.  He  addressed  her  from  time  to  time, 
trying  to  reassure  her.  A  hundred  opera  glasses  swept 
the  President's  box,  searching  for  Peggy  Ware.  The 
afternoon  papers  had  carried  the  announcement  in 
flowing  headlines  that  she  would  be  the  guest  of  the 
President  and  occupy  a  seat  in  his  box.     Peggy  felt 


Peggy  Goes  to  Washington  315 

herself  growing  cold.     Her  hands  were  clammy,  her 
teeth  chattered,  her  head  swam. 

"I  am  ill,  Mr.  President,"  she  said.  "Won't  yon 
please  send  some  one  with  me  to  my  hotel?" 

"My  dear  child,  trust  me.  I  know  what  ails  you.  I 
appreciate  your  feelings,  but  wait.  You  are  going  to 
be  accorded  an  ovation  tonight  such  as  no  other  Ameri- 
can girl  ever  had  under  like  conditions.  It  will  be  an 
ovation  to  Peggy  Ware,  the  highest  type  of  American 
womanhood  and  not  to  her  beautiful  gown  and  splen- 
did jewels." 

Once  more  Peggy  shrank  back  dejectedly  in  her 
corner,  while  the  audience  vainly  searched  the  Presi- 
dent's box  for  Peggy  Ware. 

"It  was  all  a  newspaper  hoax,"  one  man  declared, 
and  soon  it  was  whispered  through  the  audience  that 
Peggy  Ware  had  not  arrived.  There  was  great  dis- 
appointment on  the  faces  of  the  audience  when  the 
curtain  rose  for  the  performance,  for  Washington  had 
been  stirred  by  the  thrilling  stories  of  the  lass  from 
the  mountains  of  Alabama. 

They  forgot  their  disappointment  in  a  little  while, 
however,  as  the  great  masterpiece  was  flashed  on  the 
screen.  It  opened  with  Christmas  eve  in  the  Ware 
home  in  the  Cumberland  mountains,  followed  by  a 
Christmas  tree,  Simon  acting  as  Santa  Claus.  Then 
came  another  scene  on  the  same  night  in  Bucks  Pocket 
in  the  Alabama  mountains,  a  wild  dance  of  the  moun- 
taineers in  the  home  of  Cliff  Anderson,  the  King  of 
the  Wild  Catters,  winding  up  in  a  drunken  brawl.  The 
death  of  Peggy  Ware's  mother,  her  burial  in  the  deso- 
late graveyard,  Simon  speaking  the  last  words,  while 
Wilbur  Ware  sat  scowling,  angry  with  God  for  taking 
his  wife. 

Again  Wilbur  Ware  was  shown  burning  his  theo- 


316  Peggy    Ware 

logical  books,  denouncing  the  ministry,  loading  his 
earthly  belongings  into  an  ox  wagon,  starting  for  the 
wilds  of  North  Alabama,  where  the  family  encountered 
Cliff  Anderson,  the  King  of  the  Wild  Catters. 

Then  followed  the  story  of  the  early  struggle,  the 
surrender  of  the  King  of  the  Wild  Catters,  the  awak- 
ening of  the  people,  the  growth  of  the  Peggy  Ware 
School,  changing  the  most  lawless  spot  in  Alabama 
to  one  of  the  most  progressive  and  law-abiding. 

Finally  there  came  the  great  climax  when  the  Gov- 
ernment sent  its  soldiers  to  capture  the  small  army  of 
slackers  that  had  fortified  in  Bucks  Pocket,  determined 
to  fight  all  comers. 

Peggy  appears  in  the  slacker's  camp,  and  addresses 
the  men.  Her  words  are  flashed  on  the  screen :  "My 
country,  right  or  wrong,"  she  says,  and  the  audience 
broke  into  enthusiastic  applause.  The  men  agree  to 
surrender.  She  has  'barely  time  to  reach  the  top  of  the 
peak  from  which  the  white  flag  of  surrender  is  to  be 
waved.  She  and  Billy  Wooten,  one  of  the  slackers, 
climb  the  side  of  the  peak ;  they  reach  it  with  but  two 
minutes  to  spare.  Billy  Wooten  hoists  Peggy's  hand- 
kerchief on  a  stick,  while  Peggy  waves  the  stars  and 
stripes.  The  cannon  booms  a  salute,  the  chimes  in 
the  Community  Church  peal  out,  "My  Country,  'tis  of 
thee,"  the  orchestra  takes  up  the  refrain,  some  one 
rushes  to  the  front  of  the  stage  and  begins  to  sing,  the 
audience  joins  in  the  mighty  anthem,  and  when  the 
last  note  is  reached,  someone  shouts:  "Three  cheers 
for  Peggy  Ware!"  They  were  given  with  a  hearty 
good  will,  the  President  standing  in  his  box  smiling 
his  approval. 

Seizing  Peggy  firmly  by  the  arm,  he  said:  "You 
must  stand  up  and  bow  your  acknowledgment,  Miss 


Peggy  Goes  to  Washington  317 

Ware."     Frightened  until  she  scarcely  realized  what 
she  was  doing,  Peggy  arose  mechanically. 

"This  is  Miss  Ware,"  the  President  announced,  as 
he  led  her  to  the  front  of  the  box. 

The  audience  was  dumbfounded,  as  it  gazed  be- 
wildered at  the  shy,  plainly  dressed  mountain  girl, 
standing  speechless,  shrinking  from  the  cruel  publicity 
thrust  on  her.  Something  like  a  great  sigh  of  sym- 
pathy swept  the  audience,  and  then  it  found  its  soul. 

Wave  upon  wave  of  applause  swept  the  great  audi- 
torium, one  of  the  largest  in  the  city.  "A  speech !  A 
speech!"  they  cried.  "Talk  to  us,  Peggy  Ware,  say 
something.    We  want  to  hear  your  voice." 

"Say  something,  child,"  urged  the  President.  "They 
want  to  hear  you." 

Thus  urged,  Peggy  Ware  raised  her  hand  to  still  the 
tumult.  Instantly  there  was  a  profound  silence.  "I 
want  to  thank  you  from  the  bottom  of  my  heart,"  she 
began. 

Ah,  the  music  of  that  voice.  No  Southern  mocking 
bird  ever  sang  a  more  liquid  note.  A  thrill  ran  through 
the  listening  audience.  They  felt  something  that  they 
could  not  define. 

She  had  the  letter  with  the  French  postmark  with 
her.  "I  want  to  read  you  a  letter,  from  France,"  she 
said,  "about  Billy  Wooten  whom  you  saw  in  the  pic- 
ture waving  the  white  flag  of  truce.  It  will  give  you 
a  true  insight  into  the  character  of  our  Southern  moun- 
taineers. They  are  very  near  my  heart,"  she  added 
naively,  "for  I  am  one  of  them. 

"This  letter  is  from  Lieutenant  Johnson,  to  whom 
the  draft  evaders  surrendered. 

"Dear  Miss  Ware:  I  know  this  will  be  a  sad  mes- 
sage for  you.     It  pains  me  to  write  it,  and  yet  I  am 


318  Peggy    Ware 

sure  that  when  you  know  the  whole  story,  your  grief 
will  find  some  solace. 

"When  we  came  over  to  France  I   was  thrown  in 

the  Rainbow  Division  ,and  with  me  were  most  of  your 
boys,  for  they  always  spoke  of  themselves  as  belong- 
ing to  you.  Billy  Wooten  was  one  of  the  finest  in  the 
lot,  and  became  my  orderly.  He  was  always  asking 
me  how  to  spell  words,  and  said  he  was  trying  to 
learn  so  he  could  write  to  you.  He  could  never  speak 
of  you  without  emotion,  and  I  have  often  seen  tears 
in  his  eyes  as  he  would  tell  me  how  thankful  he  was 
that  you  showed  him  his  duty. 

"We  had  been  over  the  top  several  times,  and  Billy 
was  always  at  my  side.  He  went  into  battle  as  light- 
heartedly  as  he  would  have  gone  on  a  picnic.  I  think 
he  was  the  coolest  man  I  ever  saw  under  fire.  I  asked 
him  about  it  once,  and  his  reply  was  that  he  had  no 
fear,  for  if  a  German  bullet  got  him  he  would  find  a 
beautiful  world  on  the  other  side.  'Miss  Peggy  told 
me  so,'  he  would  say,  'and  I  know  it  because  she  said 
it.' 

"Well,  we  went  over  the  top  once  too  often,  and  I 
fell  badly  wounded.  Billy  stopped  to  pick  me  up.  The 
fire  was  terrific,  and  men  were  dropping  like  autumn 
leaves.  'Don't  bother  about  me,  Billy,'  I  said.  'Help 
rally  the  men.'  'I  hate  to  leave  you,  Lieutenant,'  he 
said,  'but  you're  the  boss.'  With  that  he  sprang  for- 
ward and  I  heard  him  give  the  wild  rebel  yell  that  you 
have  often  heard.  'Come  on,  men !'  he  shouted.  'Fol- 
low me !' 

"I  never  saw  him  again  until  he  was  brought  to  the 
hospital  where  I  lay  pretty  badly  wounded.  A  glance 
was  sufficient  to  tell  me  that  his  days  were  numbered. 
One  side  of  his  face  was  shot  away,  and  his  body  was 


Peggy  Goes  to  Washington  319 

terribly  mangled  as  the  result  of  a  shell  that  exploded 
right  at  him.     I  spoke  to  him  and  he  said: 

"  'I  am  so  glad,  Lieutenant,  you  are  here.  I  was 
afeard  I'd  die  an'  not  get  to  write  to  her  or  send  her 
any  word.  You  know  I  promised  to  write  when  we 
started  over  here,  an'  now  I'm  afeard  it's  too  late.  But 
you'll  write  her,  won't  you,  Lieutenant,  and  tell  her 
that  I  died  happy  thinkin'  of  her  and  of  my  country. 
I'm  so  proud  that  I  had  this  chance  of  fightin'  fer 
Uncle  Sam,  and  I  only  wish  I  had  a  hundred  lives. 
I'd  like  to  give  half  of  them  to  Him,  and  half  of  them 
to  Peggy  Ware,  fer  it  was  she  who  showed  me  what  a 
gran'  Government  we  have.' 

"I  promised  him  that  I  would  write  just  as  soon  as 
I  was  able  to  sit  up,  and  he  seemed  very  happy.  For 
a  long  time  he  seemed  asleep.  I  thought  the  end  was 
near,  and  he  would  never  wake.  In  a  little  while, 
however,  he  stirred  uneasily,  and  I  heard  his  voice : 

"  'Lieutenant,'  he  said  weakly,  'don't  you  recon'  I 
could  write  her  just  a  little  bit  of  a  letter.  Write  her 
name  and  sign  mine,  telling  her  it  wus  from  me.  Don't 
you  recon'  she  would  keep  it  always  and  look  at  it 
sometimes  and  think  of  me?' 

"I  assured  him  that  you  would  undoubtedly  prize  it 
most  highly.  I  called  a  nurse  and  explained  the  situa- 
tion. She  brought  pen,  ink  and  paper.  She  dipped 
the  pen  in  the  ink  and  placed  it  in  his  hand,  and  showed 
him  where  to  write. 

"Slowly,  painfully  he  began  to  scrawl  the  letters. 
'You'll  have  to  tell  me  how  to  spell  her  name,  Lieuten- 
ant. She  wrote  it  fer  me,  but  I  guess  I  lost  the  paper 
it  wus  on  when  that  shell  blowed  me  up.' 

"I  spelled  your  name  for  him,  very  slowly,  and  he 
followed  with  his  pen  until  he  had  finished. 


320  Peggy    Ware 

"'Now,  how  can  I  let  her  know  it's  from  me?'  he 
said. 

"Write  the  word  'from,'  I  told  him,  and  then  sign 
your  name." 

"  'I  reckon  you'll  have  to  spell  that  'from'  fer  me, 
too.     I  never  learned  it.' 

"I  spelled  it,  and  he  wrote  it. 

"  'The  rest  is  easy,'  he  said,  'if  I  can  jest  hold  out.' 

"Quite  sure  of  himself  now,  he  wrote  'Billy,'  and 
then  started  on  the  last  part  of  the  name.  He  was 
almost  through  now.  'Jest  a  little  more  ink,  nurse,' 
he  whispered.     'Better  bring  a  light;  1  can't  see.' 

"  'I'll  hold  your  hand  at  the  right  place,'  the  nurse 
said  gently.  Slowly,  more  slowly,  his  fingers  moved. 
'I  am  afeard  I  won't  make  it,'  he  said.  'Oh,  but  I 
must !'  and  he  threw  his  vital  breath  into  the  last  few 
strokes.  His  fingers  relaxed,  the  pen  fell  from  his 
hand,  he  closed  his  eyes,  a  smile  seemed  to  light  that 
portion  of  his  face  not  torn  away  by  the  shell,  and  he 
whispered  so  weakly  that  the  nurse  had  to  place  her 
ear  to  his  lips  to  catch  it.  'I  tol'  her  I'd  write  her  a 
letter,  and  I  did.' 

"We  looked  again,  and  the  big  mountain  boy  with 
the  heart  of  a  lion  and  the  soul  of  a  woman  was  still 
forever." 

Again  her  hand  sought  the  envelope,  and  she  held  up 
the  scrap  of  paper  on  which  was  scrawled : 

"Miss  Peggy  Ware 

from 

Billy  Wooten" 

"This,  ladies  and  gentlemen,  is  all  the  epitaph  I 
desire  on  my  tomb  when  I  have  paid  the  same  debt  that 
Billy  Wooten  paid  on  Flanders  fields.  There  are  thou- 
sands of  Billy  Wootens  in  the  mountains  of  my  be- 


Peggy  Goes  to  Washington  321 

loved  Southland,  and  it  is  one  of  the  missions  of  the 
Peggy  Ware  School  to  bring  the  light  of  education  to 
these  boys  and  girls." 

There  are  times  when  an  audience  cannot  applaud. 
There  was  such  an  occasion  when  President  Lincoln 
delivered  his  now  world-famed  Gettysburg  address. 

Only  sobs  were  heard  when  Peggy  sat  down.  Final- 
ly some  one  said:     "The  President!     The  President!" 

"I  don't  want  to  mar  the  occasion,"  said  the  Presi- 
dent, "by  any  remarks  of  my  own.  The  lesson  we 
have  received  tonight  in  patriotism,  in  duty,  in  the 
joys  of  self-sacrifice,  could  not  be  added  to  by  me.  I 
stand  reverently  in  the  presence  of  this  country  girl 
who  has  shown  us  the  way  to  the  life  that  is  really 
worth  while.  She  has  grasped  the  true  meaning  of 
life  where  so  many  of  us  have  missed  it. 

"She  has  not  been  ashamed  to  acknowledge  God,  and 
to  live  for  the  things  of  the  soul,  rather  than  the  things 
of  the  body.  When  the  whole  nation  learns  this  vital 
truth  taught  by  Jesus,  and  the  masters  of  all  the  ages, 
then  will  the  nation  find  its  soul. 

"One  of  our  ex-Presidents  said  not  long  ago : 

"  'After  a  certain  not  very  high  level  of  material 
well-being  has  been  reached,  then  the  things  that  really 
count  in  life  are  the  things  of  the  spirit.  Factories 
and  railways  are  good,  up  to  a  certain  point ;  but  cour- 
age and  endurance,  love  of  wife  and  child,  love  of  home 
and  country,  love  of  lover  for  sweetheart,  love  of 
beauty  of  man's  work  and  in  nature,  love  and  emula- 
tion of  daring  and  of  lofty  endeavor,  the  homely  work- 
a-day  virtues  and  the  heroic  virtues — these  are  better 
still,  and  if  they  are  lacking,  no  piled-up  riches,  no 
roaring,  clanging  industrialism,  no  feverish  and  many- 
sided  activity  shall  avail  either  the  individual  or  the 
nation.    I  do  not  undervalue  these  things  of  a  nation's 


322  Peggy    Ware 

body ;  I  only  desire  that  they  shall  not  make  us  forget 
that  besides  the  nation's  body  there  is  also  the  nation's 
soul.' 

"I  say  'Amen'  to  this  sentiment,  and  to  you,  my  fel- 
low countrymen,  that  the  noblest  example  of  what 
the  soul-life  means,  and  what  it  will  do  for  the  world 
if  put  into  practice,  we  witnessed  tonight  as  we  saw  it 
re-enacted  on  the  screen." 

*  ******* 

At  last  Peggy  found  herself  alone  in  her  luxurious 
room.  The  lights  were  out,  the  moon  streamed  through 
the  window,  her  beautiful  golden  head  sunk  in  a  mas- 
sive pillow,  and  she  sobbed  in  her  sleep  as  you  have 
often  heard  a  little  child  that  had  gone  to  its  mother 
weeping  and  fallen  asleep  in  her  arms. 


Chapter  Twenty-One 
PEGGY'S  GETHSEMANE 

PEGGY  was  glad  to  get  away  from  Washington, 
where  she  had  been  the  recipient  of  the  most 
distinguished  consideration.  Her  heart  yearned 
for  her  own  people,  the  simple  folk  who  needed  her. 
She  appreciated  the  honors  bestowed  upon  her  in  her 
nation's  capitol,  and  was  glad  of  the  opportunity  of 
giving  the  simple  message  to  the  world  that  she  had 
learned  in  the  solitude  of  her  Southern  mountains. 

Christ  said  "they  that  are  whole  need  not  a  physi- 
cian." Peggy  construed  this  as  meaning  that  until  a 
man  realized  his  need  of  a  physician,  a  teacher,  it  is 
useless  to  attempt  to  lead  him  into  the  light. 

She  knew  that  her  mountain  people  were  seeking 
the  truth,  and  it  was  her  supreme  desire  to  share  with 
them  the  light  that  burned  ever  more  brightly  for  her. 

She  did  not  know  the  hungry  hearts  and  longing 
souls  of  many  of  those  in  high  places.  If  they  had 
cared  to  remove  their  masks  for  a  moment,  what  a 
tragic  revelation  it  would  have  been  to  Peggy.  She 
would  have  understood,  as  she  learned  later  in  life, 
that  the  same  soul  longing,  the  same  need  of  the  great 
physician,  comes  to  prince  and  pauper  alike,  and  when 
that  longing  comes,  it  obliterates  all  caste,  all  color, 
putting  all  mankind  on  the  same  footing. 

She  would  have  known  that  some  time,  somewhere 
this  longing  comes  to  every  human   soul,  and   when 

323 


324  Peggy    Ware 

once  felt,  there  will  never  be  a  life  worth  while  for 

that  soul  until  it  has  found  the  road  to  salvation. 

Peg°y  knew  this  road  to  salvation  was  a  long  and 
difficult  one,  for  had  she  not  trodden  it,  feeling-  that 
her  feet  were  seemingly  on  the  path,  when  lo,  without 
warning,  self  would  rise  up  in  the  way,  blocking  her 
passage  with  flaming  sword.  It  was  no  wonder  that 
Jesus  said,  "Narrow  is  the  way,  and  few  there  be  that 
find  it." 

Peggy's  vision  was  to  help  as  many  as  possible  find 
the  way  on  this  plane  in  the  present  life,  so  that  the 
thorny  road  to  salvation  might  be  shortened  for  as 
many  souls  as  possible,  for  she  felt  that  the  millennium 
is  possible  only  when  the  last  soul  has  been  saved. 

Salvation  meant  saving  a  man  or  woman  from  the 
hell  of  self— from  the  flesh,  the  material  man.  She 
believed  that  our  social  and  industrial  problems  will 
never  be  soved  until  we  have  first  solved  our  problem 
of  the  soul's  salvation. 

It  was  to  this  work  that  she  was  bending  every  en- 
ergy of  her  splendid  young  womanhood.  How  inade- 
quate her  work  seemed  as  she  reviewed  it,  journeying 
back  to  Bucks  Pocket.  Her  soul  cried  out  for  more 
faith,  more  wisdom,  more  power. 

"I  need  a  new  baptism  of  the  Holy  Ghost  every  day 
of  my  life,"  she  whispered  to  herself  as  she  contem- 
plated the  tremendous  task  of  saving  the  world  from 
its  crass  materialism. 

She  stopped  in  Chattanooga  for  a  few  hours  await- 
ing the  sailing  of  her  steamer,  for  she  wanted  to  en- 
joy once  more  the  trip  down  the  majestic  Tennessee. 
To  her  great  surprise  she  was  met  at  the  station  by 
the  Mayor  and  a  big  crowd  of  people.  The  camera 
men  and  reporters  were  also  in  evidence. 


Peggy's  Gethsemane  325 

"Why  do  the  people  want  to  see  me?"  she  asked  the 
Mayor.    "How  did  you  know  I  would  be  on  the  train?" 

"Miss  Ware,"  he  answered,  "it  is  a  tribute  to  your 
work,  your  life.  Most  of  us  are  living  for  self,  for 
money,  but  deep  down  in  our  souls  we  are  not  satis- 
fied. We  know  that  such  a  life  can  never  bring  peace, 
but  we  go  on  year  in  and  year  out,  quaffing  the  draught 
that  never  satisfies,  that  only  increases  our  thirst. 
When  a  great  soul  comes  among  us  that  has  drunk  of 
the  water  of  life,  we  pay  our  homage,  although  we  may 
not  yet  be  ready  to  pay  the  price. 

"We  all  know  that  we  must  do  it  by  and  by,  but  we 
wait  to  take  one  more  quaff  of  our  hell-brewed  broth 
of  self,  until  at  last  our  throats  become  so  parched,  our 
hearts  so  scorched  with  the  fires  of  materialism,  that 
we  cry  out,  'Christ,  give  me  the  living  water'. 

"This  answers  your  question  as  to  why  people  want 
to  see  you. 

"Your  second  question  is  also  quite  simple.  You 
are  now  famous.  You  belong  to  the  public,  and  every 
act  of  your  life  is  of  the  greatest  importance. 

"When  you  left  Washington,  the  news  was  flashed 
over  the  wires.  They  know  in  Bucks  Pocket  that  you 
are  here,  that  you  have  just  stepped  from  the  train 
and  were  met  by  the  Mayor  and  an  enthusiastic  dele- 
gation of  citizens." 

"I  think  it's  dreadful,"  said  Peggy,  "that  I  should 
attract  so  much  attention.  I  am  going  back  to  Bucks 
Pocket  and  never  leave  it  again." 

"In  that  event,  the  world  will  come  to  you.  Miss 
Ware,"  declared  the  Mayor.  "When  one  has  a  mes- 
sage for  the  world,  the  world  will  come  for  it,  if  needs 
be." 

It  was  difficult  for  Peggy  to  realize  that  she  had 
really  made  herself  an  important  figure  in  the  world. 


326  Peggy    Ware 

It  had  been  so  foreign  to  anything  she  had  ever  thought 
or  dreamed  of.  In  her  vision  she  had  never  seen  her- 
self, and  it  was  slowly  dawning  on  her  that  she  stood 
as  an  incarnation  of  her  work  to  the  public. 

#  ******* 

At  last  the  steamer  anchored  at  the  wharf  and  she 
saw  all  the  pupils  of  the  Peggy  Ware  School,  together 
with  the  population  of  Bucks  Pocket  there  to  greet 
her.  Her  heart  responded  with  a  great  throb  of  thank- 
fulness. 

"It's  so  good  to  be  back,"  she  said,  as  she  kissed 
Ralph,  Virginia,  and  Molly  Anderson.  "I'd  like  to  kiss 
every  one  of  you,  but  it  would  take  too  long.  I  feel 
at  home  here,  and  don't  ever  want  to  leave  again." 

"They  have  been  phoning  telegrams  from  the  rail- 
road for  a  week,"  her  father  said,  "from  all  over  the 
country.  They  want  you  everywhere,  to  lecture,  to 
preach,  to  act  on  the  stage,  and  on  the  screen.  It's 
wonderful,  my  child,  and  I  thank  God  for  you." 

"I  thank  Him  for  such  a  father,  such  a  brother,  and 
such  sisters,"  placing  her  arms  about  Ruth,  Virginia, 
and  Ralph,  "and  for  such  friends  as  Mr.  Anderson, 
Doctor  Weston,  and  Simon,  and  all  of  you.  God  bless 
every  one  of  you.  I  love  you,"  and  the  beautiful  face 
was  radiant  as  she  smiled  on  the  assembled  throng. 

"This  is  my  other  mother,"  she  said,  placing  her 
cheek  fondly  against  Molly  Anderson's,  "and  these  are 
your  children,"  indicating  the  pupils  of  the  Peggy 
Ware  School.  "I  know  you  have  been  good  to  them 
while  I  was  gone,"  she  declared,  looking  at  the  happy, 
upturned  faces. 

"She  sure  does  feed  us,"  one  little  fellow  with  a  big 
appetite  volunteered,  and  a  chorus  of  "You're  right 
there,  kid,"  left  no  doubt  in  Peggy's  mind  on  this  score. 


Peggy's  Gethsemane  327 

"Tell  us  all  about  Washington,  the  President,  and 
everything,"  said  Ralph. 

"That  will  take  a  long  time,"  she  said.  "I  will  tell 
you  a  part  of  it  each  day,  and  you  will  have  some- 
thing to  look  forward  to  for  many  days." 

It  was  a  joyous  throng  that  watched  Anderson's  big 
automobile  as  it  sped  away,  carrying  Peggy,  the  ideal 
of  every  man,  woman,  and  child  in  Bucks  Pocket. 

"Winslow  and  Cranston  are  coming  to  film  the 
wedding,"  Peggy  said  lightly.  "They  say  they  want 
it  to  complete  their  picture." 

A  painful  silence  greeted  this  announcement,  which 
Peggy  was  at  a  loss  to  understand. 

"I  thought  this  would  be  fine,"  she  said,  addressing 
Ruth. 

"Ruth  has  become  obsessed,  Peggy,  by  the  fear  that 
she  is  not  your  sister,  that  there  may  be  some  mistake 
about  it.  She  wants  the  question  settled  beyond  a 
doubt,  she  says,  before  she  becomes  my  wife.  It  makes 
no  difference  to  me,  but  when  a  woman  gets  a  thing 
into  her  head,  it's  pretty  hard  to  get  it  out." 

"You  said  somethin'  then,  Doctor,"  declared  And- 
erson.   "Molly  taught  me  that  a  long  time  ago." 

"I  know  there  is  no  doubt  that  Ruth  is  my  sister," 
said  Peggy.  "She  is  just  like  my  mother,  and  I  feel 
that  she  is,  and  that's  all  the  proof  I  need." 

"But  there  were  two  children  stolen  at  the  same 
time,"  protested  Ruth.    "I  may  be  the  other  one." 

"You  couldn't  be  the  other  one,"  said  Mrs.  Ander- 
son, laughing.     "You  are  just  you." 

"Why  not  make  a  blood  test,  Doctor  Weston?"  said 
Peggy.  "You  know  that  the  Courts  have  accepted  the 
blood  test  as  absolute  proof  of  parentage." 

"I  have  been  thinking  of  that  just  to  satisfy  Ruth," 


328  Peg  cy     Ware 

he  said.    "I  care  nothing  about  it  myself,  so  I  had  not 
mentioned  it." 

"Oh,  can  you  tell  for  sure?"  exclaimed  Ruth,  greatly 
excited.    "Tell  me  how  you  do  it !" 

"I  will  take  a  few  drops  of  your  blood,"  he  ex- 
plained, "and  a  few  drops  of  your  father's,  and  if  the 
blood  vibrates  in  unison  then  it  will  be  proven  beyond 
a  peradventure." 

"How  wonderful,"  said  the  excited  girl.  "Won't  you 
please  make  the  test  right  away.     I  must  know." 

"Suppose  the  test  should  show  that  Mr.  Ware  is  not 
your  father?"  suggested  Doctor  Weston.  "What  dif- 
ference would  it  make?" 

"Then  I  would  not  be  obtaining  property  under  false 
pretense,"  she  said  laughingly,  "if  you  still  persisted 
in  marrying  me." 

"Persisted  is  good,"  said  Weston,  as  all  joined  in  the 
laugh  that  greeted  Ruth*'s  statement. 

It  was  arranged  that  the  test  should  be  made  at  the 
sanatorium  the  next  morning  at  nine  o'clock.  At  the 
appointed  hour,  Ruth,  Peggy,  Cliff  Anderson  and  his 
wife,  Wilbur  Ware,  and  Simon  assembled  in  Doctor 
Weston's  office  to  try  the  interesting  experiment.  It 
was  a  solemn  occasion  for  all  of  them,  and  particularly 
so  for  Ruth. 

There  was  but  little  conversation,  and  Doctor  Wes- ' 
ton  silently  prepared  for  the  test.  Ruth  bared  her 
arm,  and  a  sufficient  quantity  of  blood  was  drawn. 
From  Wilbur  Ware's  arm  a  like  quantity  was  taken, 
and  then  the  test  was  arranged.  Intently  Weston 
watched  the  vibrations  of  the  blood  for  a  long  time 
through  his  glass. 

"It  is  identical,"  he  said.    "Look  for  yourselves." 

Ruth  was  the  first  one  to  watch  the  uniform  vibra- 


Peggy's  Gethsemane  329 

tion,  and  the  troubled  look  began  to  vanish  from  her 
face. 

"Oh,  I  am  so  glad,  so  happy,"  she  exclaimed.  "I 
know  now  that  you  are  my  sister,"  she  said,  kissing 
Peggy.  "My  father,  my  noble  father,"  she  sobbed, 
"how  my  heart  goes  out  to  you.  If  my  mother  were 
here,  what  a  happy  family  reunion  it  would  be." 

"Simon,  I  am  so  glad  you  are  with  us,  too,  because 
you  are  a  part  of  the  family,"  said  Ruth,  gently  placing 
her  hand  on  the  old  man's  shoulder. 

"I  alius  knowd  you  wus  a  Lee,"  said  Simon,  "an'  I 
know  my  Young  Missus  is  heah,  too.  I  feels  it.  An' 
dey  am  lots  more  heah,  too,  ef  we  could  open  our 
eyes  and  see  'em." 

As  they  gazed  at  the  look  of  rapture  on  the  old 
man's  face,  it  was  not  hard  to  imagine  that  for  him  the 
veil  was  parted  just  a  little  way,  allowing  him  to  see 
his  loved  "white  folks"  who  had  passed  over  to  the 
other  side. 

The  wedding  morning  dawned  bright  and  clear.  It 
was  to  be  the  great  gala  day  in  the  life  of  Bucks  Pocket. 
The  Governor  of  the  State,  and  the  Speaker  of  the 
Lower  House  of  the  Legislature  were  to  be  present. 
They  had  made  the  request  that  they  be  included  in 
the  list  of  invited  guests. 

\\  inslow  and  Cranston  were  already  on  the  ground, 
preparing  to  film  the  wedding  and  all  of  its  incidents, 
including  the  wedding  supper  to  be  served  at  the  And- 
erson home,  and  the  ball  that  was  to  follow. 

The  wedding  ceremony  was  to  take  place  in  the  Com- 
munity Center  Church,  just  as  the  sun  was  setting,  and 
the  invitation  to  the  wedding  included  the  entire  popu- 
lation.    Everybodv  was  there.    Two  hours  before  time 


330  Peggy    Ware 

for  the  wedding  party  to  arrive,  they  began  to  come  in 
wagons,  buggies,  on  horseback  and  afoot. 

Just  as  the  last  rays  of  the  sun  were  glinting  the 
highest  peaks,  Peggy  began  the  wedding  march,  and 
the  bridal  party  entered.  Ruth  was  very  beautiful  in 
a  fashionable  gown. 

"She  is  shore  enough  quality,"  muttered  Simon. 
"She  steps  lak  a  race  hoss,  an'  hoi's  her  head  lak  a 
Lee." 

Doctor  Weston  was  as  handsome  as  a  Greek  god, 
and  his  manner  denoted  the  man  of  superior  qualities 
of  mind  and  heart. 

Ralph  and  Virginia  were  happily  excited  as  they 
watched  the  marriage  of  their  beautiful  sister  to  the 
distinguished  Doctor  Weston. 

Wilbur  Ware  performed  the  ceremony,  and  Cliff 
Anderson  gave  the  bride  away. 

When  Doctor  Weston  placed  the  ring  on  Ruth's 
finger,  his  hand  trembled  so  violently  that  it  seemed 
he  would  never  succeed  in  doing  so.  No  one  but 
Peggy  understood  the  cause  of  his  agitation.  She 
saw  that  handsome  face,  white  and  drawn,  and  she 
knew  that  his  soul  was  crying  out  for  what  could 
never  be. 

Her  own  soul  called  for  his  across  an  abyss  so  wide, 
so  fathomless  that  she  knew  they  must  build  for  ages 
before  the  yawning  gulf  could  be  spanned. 

Everyone  was  gone,  and  the  last  note  of  the  wedding 
march  had  died  away.  Everyone  except  Peggy  and 
Simon.  He  had  stood  in  an  alcove  during  the  wedding 
ceremony,  and  from  this  vantage  point  had  watched 
the  people  as  they  marched  out. 

Peggy  turned  and  looked  down  the  deserted  aisles, 
but  they  were  filled  with  the  shadows  of  the  coming 


Peggy's  Gethsemane  331 

twilight.  Her  hands  fell  to  her  sides,  while  her  head 
rested  on  the  keys  of  the  organ. 

Simon,  who  was  watching,  thought  she  had  fainted, 
and  noiselessly  as  one  of  the  shadows  cast  by  the  pine 
trees  through  the  church  windows,  he  stole  to  her  side, 
placed  his  hand  lightly  on  her  shoulder,  saying: 
"Chile,  I'se  heah,  and  so  is  God." 

"And  may  He  always  be  with  us,  Simon,"  said  Peg- 
gy, looking  wistfully  toward  the  great  forest  to  the 
west. 

"I  am  going  to  write  my  father  a  note,  Simon.  You 
are  to  take  it  to  him,  and  then  go  to  your  cabin  and 
make  me  a  cup  of  your  best  tea.  I  think  I  shall  need 
it — and  you,  too,  Simon,"  she  added  pathetically,  as  the 
old  man  turned  away  with  a  heavy  heart  to  deliver  the 
note  she  had  hastily  written. 

Simon  understood.  No  words  were  necessary  be- 
tween him  and  Peggy.  Her  every  wish  had  always 
been  to  him  a  command,  and  now  in  the  great  crisis  of 
her  life,  the  faithful  old  man  read  her  innermost 
thoughts,  and  suffered  all  the  agony  that  wrung  her 
soul. 

When  he  had  gone,  she  slipped  out  into  the  length- 
ening shadows,  and  went  toward  her  Shrine  of  Si- 
lence. She  must  be  alone  with  the  only  friend  to  whom 
she  dared  pour  out  the  secret  anguish  of  her  soul. 

Often  she  had  gone  to  Him  in  perplexity,  in  doubt, 
sometimes  in  sorrow,  and  He  had  never  failed  her.  To 
Him  she  could  go  in  perfect  confidence. 

She  entered  the  Shrine  of  Silence,  closed  the  door. 
and  knelt  reverently,  asking  God  to  remove  the  pain 
from  her  heart.  "I  love  him !  I  love  him !"  she  cried. 
"Why  did  this  cruel  thing  come  into  my  life?" 

"Why  must  I  always  sacrifice  my  own  life  for  oth- 


332  Peggy     Ware 

ers?  What  have  I  done  to  merit  this  cruel  punish- 
ment?" 

God  was  afar  off,  and  no  answer  came  to  her  selfish 
appeal. 

Her  throat  was  dry,  her  temples  throbbed,  her  eyes 
ached  with  unshed  tears.  Involuntarily  she  reached 
out  her  hand,  and  it  rested  on  her  mother's  Bible.  It 
lay  open  upon  the  table,  and  a  voice  out  of  the  shad- 
ows whispered,  "read,  read." 

She  picked  it  up,  and  had  to  hold  it  very  close  to 
her  eyes,  for  the  shadows  were  now  filling  the  room. 
She  read  the  first  passage  that  encountered  her  vision. 

"For  the  flesh  lusteth  against  the  Spirit,  and  the 
Spirit  against  the  flesh ;  and  these  are  contrary  the  one 
to  the  other;  so  that  ye  cannot  do  the  things  that  ye 
would.  .  .  .  And  they  that  are  Christ's,  have  cru- 
cified the  flesh  with  the  affections  and  lusts." 

She  had  not  crucified  self.  This  truth  stood  up  be- 
fore her,  and  mocked  -her.  She  had  been  flattering 
herself  that  Peggy  Ware  had  long  ago  been  nailed  to 
the  cross,  but  now  her  soul  cried  out,  "Crucify !  Cru- 
cify!" 

"I  will  not  be  crucified,"  defiantly  mocked  the  flesh. 
"Why  should  I  surrender  all  to  the  soul?" 

It  was  growing  dark,  and  Peggy  had  not  found  God. 
Her  own  soul  was  overshadowed  by  a  blackness 
greater  than  the  night  that  now  hung  over  the  forest. 

A  feeling  of  fear  crept  into  her  heart.  God  had  hid- 
den His  face  from  her,  and  when  she  could  not  see  His 
face,  she  was  afraid.  She  longed  for  human  sympathy 
if  God  no  longer  heard  her.  She  must  have  someone 
to  whom  she  could  pour  out  her  grief. 

There  was  but  one  person  in  the  world  to  whom  she 
could  go,  but  one  besides  God,  who  had  forsaken  her. 

She  had  one  friend  who  knew  without  words.     She 


Peggy's  Gethsemane  333 

knew  that  Simon  would  understand  without  explana- 
tion. So  would  Hero.  Hero  could  not  speak,  but  he 
knew  the  language  of  sympathy,  of  brotherhood.  She 
would  get  Hero  and  together  they  would  go  to  Simon's 
cabin. 

It  was  now  the  hour  for  the  wedding  dinner,  the 
guests  were  seated,  but  there  was  one  vacant  chair.  It 
was  Peggy's.  Everyone  was  anxiously  inquiring  about 
her,  when  Wilbur  Ware  arose  and  stated  that  he  had 
received  a  note  from  Peggy  begging  to  be  excused 
from  dinner,  promising  to  be  with  them  for  the  eve- 
ning festivities.  She  had  been  called  away,  her  father 
explained,  on  an  important  errand  that  would  not  wait. 

A  shadow  of  gloom  settled  over  the  party  so  bright 
and  joyous  just  a  moment  before. 

Peggy  was  the  magnet,  the  soul,  the  sunshine  of 
every  gathering,  and  her  absence,  if  but  for  a  little 
while,  left  much  more  than  her  empty  chair. 

At  least  one  of  the  diners  divined  the  cause  of  Peg- 
gy's absence,  and  Doctor  Weston  had  to  be  rallied  by 
Ruth  about  his  preoccupation  more  than  once  during 
the  progress  of  the  meal. 

Peggy,  on  her  way  to  Simon's  cabin,  went  by  Hero's 
kennel,  and  unfastened  him.  He  greeted  his  mistress 
with  joy,  and  tried  to  express  in  dog  language  his  love 
for  her.  Together  they  entered  the  cabin  where  the 
old  man  sat  gazing  into  the  burning  coals. 

'Tse  made  you  de  grandes'  cup  ob  tea  you  evah 
drinked,'  'he  said.  "It's  ready  to  pour  into  your  china 
cup,  what  nobody's  evah  used  'cept  you.  I  bought  it 
jest  fer  you,"  the  old  man  said  proudly,  "an'  when  I  am 
gone,  I  want  you  to  alius  keep  it,  an'  when  you  drink 
yoah  tea  out  ob  it,  think  ob  ol'  Simon  ovah  on  tother 
side  watchin'  every  time  de  gate  opens  fer  you  to  come 
in." 


334  Peggy    Ware 

"I  hope  that  will  be  a  long,  long  time  off,"  said 
Peggy,  "for  I  seem  to  need  you  more  and  more  as  the 
time  goes  by.  Tonight  I  need  you,  Simon,  just  as  a 
little  child  needs  its  mother." 

"Pore  chile,  pore  deah,"  crooned  the  old  man.  "How 
I  wish  I  could  bear  it  all  fer  you.  I'se  so  glad  I  come 
back  frum  de  tother  side  dat  time  you  called  me,  fer 
mebbe  I  kin  say  somethin'  to  help  the  hurt  in  yoah 
deah  heart." 

"Oh,  Simon,  Simon,  I  just  can't  stand  it!  My  heart 
is  breaking,  breaking,"  sobbed  Peggy. 

Simon  had  never  witnessed  such  uncontrollable 
grief.  Peggy,  his  bright,  joyous  Peggy  weeping. 
"Don'  cry,  chile,  don'  cry,"  the  old  man  said.  "I'd 
ruther  die  dan  to  see  you  weepin'  dis  way." 

The  flood  gates  of  Simon's  tears  burst  their  bounds. 
He  bowed  his  white  head  between  his  hands,  and  be- 
tween his  moans,  sobbed,  "God  help  dat  pore  li'l  lamb, 
dat  ain't  evah  done  no  h'arm  in  her  life." 

Hero  began  to  whine  piteously.  His  cry  was  almost 
human.  The  great  tears  fell  from  his  eyes  to  the  floor, 
and  he  looked  pityingly  at  the  tempest-tossed  form  of 
his  mistress. 

Peggy  finally  ceased  to  sob,  and  Simon  quietly 
poured  a  cup  of  tea  and  set  it  on  the  table  beside  her, 
while  Hero  wagged  his  tail  and  kissed  Peggy's  hand. 

"I  guess  I  am  just  a  little  child,  after  all,  Simon," 
she  said,  "wanting  the  moon.  You  have  often  told  me 
how  I  used  to  cry  for  the  moon  when  I  was  small," 
she  said. 

"Ef  you  could  a  had  the  moon,  it  would  a  stopped 
shinin',"  the  old  man  said.  "Now  ef  you  had  what  you 
want,  the  sun  would  stop  shinin'  fer  lots  ob  folks. 

"You  see,  eberybody  lubes  you,  and  eberyone  thinks 
you  lubes  him  de  best.     You  is  eberybody's  sweet- 


Peggy's  Gsthssmane  335 

heart.  Eben  Hero  thinks  you  lube  him  bettah  dan 
you  do  me,  an'  I  thinks  you  lube  ol'  Simon  more'n 
you  do  anybody  'cept  yore  own  folks. 

"Ef  you  evah  got  married,  course  I  knows  you 
nevah  thought  about  sech  a  thing — then  eberybody 
would  know  who  you  lubed  bes'  an'  you  wouldn't  be 
de  worl's  sweetheart  no  more." 

"Yes,  Simon,  but  it's  so  hard  to  crucify  self,"  said 
Peggy.  "I  don't  think  I  ever  knew  anyone  but  you 
that  had  done  it  successfully.  I  suppose  that's  why 
I  come  to  you  now  when  I  feel  that  my  old  selfish 
self  is  about  to  get  the  upper  hand.  Tell  me,  Simon, 
how  you  did  it." 

"Chil',  I  ain't  done  it,  not  by  myself.  I  had  a  heap 
o'  help.  When  I  wus  stole  away  frum  my  daddy  and 
mammy  in  Africa  I  wus  full  ob  de  devil  an'  I  hated 
eberybody. 

"Den  by  an'  by,  when  I  growed  up  an'  married  and 
had  two  ob  de  fines'  pickaninnies  you  eber  saw,  an' 
my  mastah  sold  my  wife  an'  de  babies  an'  de  man  whut 
bought  'em  took  'em  away  an'  I  knowed  I'd  nevah  see 
dem  no  moah,  I  had  de  debil,  hell  an'  ebery  evil  thing 
in  my  heart.  I  wanted  to  kill.  I  laid  out  in  de  swamp 
fer  a  whole  week,  an'  dey  hunted  me  wid  bloodhounds, 
an'  finally  dey  ketched  me.  Den  my  mastah  whopped 
me  ontil  I  knowed  he  wus  gwine  to  kill  me,  an'  I  shet 
my  eyes  an'  say:    'Oh  God,  I  gibs  up;  I'se  whopped.' 

"An'  den  I  see  an  angel.  Yes,  I  know  it  wus  an 
angel  standin'  dah,  an'  I  don't  feel  no  moah  pain,  an' 
de  whop  seemed  to  me  lak  it  was  fallin'  on  somebody 
else,  an'  not  on  me. 

"It  wan't  long  ontil  yore  gran'fathah  bought  me  an' 
I'se  been  in  Heabin  evah  sence,  an'  I'se  so  thankful, 
I  say,  'Lawd,  I'se  gwine  to  lib  fer  de  folks  what  needs 
me  fer  de  rest  of  mah  life,  an'  Simon  ain't  no  more.' 


336  Peggy    Ware 

"But  sometime,  eben  now,  I  wake  up  in  de  night  de 
col'  sweat  standin'  on  my  face,  my  fists  shet,  an' 
a-grittin'  my  teeth,  an'  my  heart  a-cryin'  fer  mah  wife 
an'  kids,  an'  I  say :  'Lawd,  dat's  Simon  'sertin'  his- 
self;  help  me  nail  him  to  de  Cross  an'  keep  him  dah.' 

"I  recon'  we'll  nevah  finish  de  job  ontil  we  lay  dis 
ol'  self  down  an'  fly  ovah  to  de  udder  side." 

"I  think  you  are  right,  Simon.  Your  words  are  a 
great  comfort  to  me,  and  now  I  am  ready  to  go  back 
to  the  world  and  let  my  light  shine  for  all. 

"Get  your  banjo,  and  go  with  me." 

"I  thank  de  Lawd,"  the  old  man  said,  as  he  picked 
up  his  banjo,  and  followed  Peggy. 

The  ball  had  been  a  dull  affair,  the  dancing  me- 
chanical. A  splendid  orchestra  furnished  music  for 
the  occasion,  but  the  lively  strains  found  no  responsive 
chord  in  the  hearts  of  the  guests. 

"If  Peggy  would  come,"  they  kept  saying  to  each 
other. 

"Here  she  is  now,"  a  dozen  exclaimed  at  once. 
•  The  gloom  was  gone,  and  the  sun  had  burst  in  all 
its  noonday  splendor.     Peggy  was   radiant.     No  one 
had  ever  seen  her  so  beautiful,  or  her  eyes  so  glorious. 

The  Governor  and  half  a  dozen  others  claimed  her 
for  the  next  dance. 

"I  never  learned  to  dance,"  she  said  laughingly. 
"These  new-fangled  dances  are  all  beyond  me." 

"Then  we  will  have  the  old  Virginia  reel,"  said  the 
governor.     "You  can  dance  that  with  me." 

"The  second  set  is  yours,  Governor,  the  first  one  I 
must  dance  with  Mr.  Anderson." 

"Then  I'll  ask  Mrs.  Anderson  to  dance  this  set  with 
me,"  said  the  Governor. 

"I  make  but  one  demand,"  said  Peggy,  "and  that  is 
that  Simon  pick  his  banjo  for  us  to  dance  by.    I  could 


Peggy's  Gethsemane  337 

not  dance  without  Simon  and  his  banjo,"  she  said. 

"Play  Dixie,  and  I'll  call  the  figures,"  shouted  the 
Governor. 

Simon  tuned  his  banjo  while  the  dancers  waited 
impatiently.  Then  he  struck  up  the  wild  strains  of 
Dixie ;  the  Governor  called,  "Honor  your  partners !" 
and  the  old  Virginia  reel  was  in  full  swing,  Ruth  and 
Doctor  Weston  leading,  followed  by  Peggy  and  Cliff 
Anderson,  and  after  them  came  the  Governor  and 
Molly  Anderson. 

Above  the  noise  of  shuffling  feet  and  the  strains  of 
Simon's  banjo,  rang  the  laughter  of  Peggy,  as  joyous 
as  the  song  of  a  nightingale. 

"The  sun  will  nevah  quit  shinin'  no  moah,"  Simon 
muttered  to  himself,  as  he  saw  the  light  in  Peggy's  face 
that  told  him  she  had  won  her  final  victory. 


Chapter  Twenty-Two 
CHRIST  LIVETH  IN  ME 

"rilMON,  you  are  looking  younger  than  you  did 

[^  when  we  came  to  Bucks  Pocket.  I  don't  be- 
lieve you  will  ever  grow  older." 

Simon  had  been  arranging  the  flowers  on  the  table 
in  Peggy's  Shrine  of  Silence,  and  she  had  entered  just 
as  he  was  saying  to  a  beautiful  rosebud :  "You'se 
pow'ful  sweet  an'  beautiful  dis  mawnin'  an'  you'll  haf 
to  do  yore  bes'  to  shine  wid  Miss  Peggy." 

The  old  man  looked  up,  startled  at  being  overheard 
talking  to  himself. 

"Did  you  heah  what  I  wus  sayin'?"  he  inquired. 

"Well,  not  exactly  Simon,"  Peggy  replied,  "but  I 
know  it  was  something  beautiful,  for  it's  the  only  lan- 
guage you  know." 

"If  I  knowse  de  beautiful  language,  it  wus  you 
teached  most  of  it  to  me.  I'se  been  libin'  wid  yore 
flowers  an'  in  yore  sunshine  so  long  dat  I  des  boun' 
to  git  bettah  an'  youngah  as  I  grow  oldah." 

"That's  a  paradox,  Simon,"  declared  Peggy  laugh- 
ing, "but  it  expresses  a  great  truth.  We  should  all 
grow  younger  in  spirit  as  we  grow  older  in  years." 

"I  don't  know  nuffin'  erbout  yore  paraboxes,  but  I 
knowse  dat  eberybody  an'  eberything  in  Bucks  Pocket 
been  doin'  des  lak  I  is,  an'  when  we  hab  de  big  fair 
an'  show  de  worl'  des  what  change  has  took  place,  it 
gwine  to  be  de  mos'  pow'fulest  lesson  evah  been." 

"I  hope  you  are  right,  Simon,  for  I  feel  we  are  build- 
ing on  the  sure  foundation  for  all  mankind,  and  now 

338 


Christ  Liveth  in  Me  339 

we  have  made  sufficient  progress  to  hold  a  fair,  where 
we  shall  give  a  living  demonstration  of  what  right 
thinking  will  accomplish,  for  all  these  things  have 
been  born  in  the  Spiritual  or  thought  world,  which 
after  all,  is  the  world  of  reality." 

"It's  all  so  wond'ful,  so  wond'ful,"  Simon  exclaimed, 
reverently.  "Ef  you  could  des  gib  de  whol'  worl'  what 
you  given  to  de  folks  in  dese  mountains,  dey  would  all 
lub  God  an'  one  annudah.  Ef  dey  could  undahstand 
about  de  crucifixion,  lak  you  wus  readin'  one  day ;  but 
dey  don't.    I  wish  you  would  read  dat  agin  fer  me." 

Peggy  picked  up  her  mother's  Bible  and  read  the 
passage:  "I  am  crucified  with  Christ:  nevertheless  I 
live;  yet  not  I,  but  Christ  liveth  in  me;  and  the  life 
which  I  now  live  in  the  flesh  I  live  by  the  faith  of  the 
Son  of  God,  who  loved  me,  and  gave  Himself  for  me." 

"He  mus'  a-been  talkin'  erbout  you,"  the  old  man 
mused,  "fer  you  have  been  crucified,  an'  you  shore  do 
lib  by  faith." 

"Ah,  Simon,  I  have  had  my  battles,  and  you  know 
about  some  of  them ;  and  I  have  many  more  ahead  of 
me." 

"Wall,  dey  won't  be  so  hard  no  moah,  becase  de 
sun  been  shinin'  now  fer  five  yeahs,  an'  dey  ain't  nevah 
been  one  cloud  as  big  as  yoah  han'." 

Peggy  laughed  joyously.     "I  know  what  you  mean, 

Simon.     That  was  my  biggest  battle.     It's  been  five 

years,  and  I  have  tried  to  keep  the  sun  shining  ever 

since. 

******** 

"My  name  is  Peggy  Ware  Weston,  an'  dis  is  my 
hossy,"  lisped  a  blue-eyed,  golden  haired  fairy  perched 
on  the  back  of  Hero,  "an'  Fse  three  years  old  today, 
an'  my  mamma  promised  me  ef  I  would  be  dood  I 
could  turn  up  here  and  wide  Hero  for  a  burfday  pres- 


340  Psggy    Ware 

ent.     My  daddy  holded  me  on,  an'  he  turn  to  de  door 
wif  me." 

Simon  lifted  little  Peggy  from  Hero's  back,  and 
she  climbed  on  Peggy's  knee. 

"I  wish  you  many  happy  returns,  Miss  Peggy  Ware 
Weston,  and  I  hope  you  will  always  be  as  good  and 
happy  as  you  are  today." 

"Amen  to  dat,"  said  the  old  darky. 

"My  mammy  says  she  wants  me  to  be  des  like  my 
Auntie  Peggy,"  the  little  child  declared. 

"And  your  Aunty  Peggy  wants  to  be  just  like  you," 
Peggy  said,  kissing  the  child's  golden  head. 

"So  does  I,  an'  I  'spec  dat  why  you  say  I'se  lookin' 
youngah,"  the  old  man  declared,  as  he  mounted  Peggy 
Weston  on  her  "hossy,"  and  they  took  their  departure 
down  the  trail,  little  Peggy  looking  back  occasionally, 
waving  goodbye  with  one  hand  as  she  clung  to  Hero 
with  the  other. 

The  opening  day  of  .the  Peggy  Ware  School  Fair 
arrived,  and  with  it  thousands  of  people  came  from 
the  surrounding  country.  Many  visitors  were  in  at- 
tendance from  the  near-by  cities,  and  a  few  from  far 
away  parts  of  the  world. 

The  Governor  of  Alabama  was  one  of  the  chief  fig- 
ures, and  had  promised  to  deliver  an  address  on  the 
opening  day. 

The  boys'  band,  composed  of  pupils  of  the  school, 
was  the  most  celebrated  in  the  state,  and  when  the 
governor  arrived,  he  was  greeted  with  the  strains  of 
"Hail  to  the  Chief,"  followed  by  "Dixie"  and  "The  Star 
Spangled  Banner." 

The  various  exhibits  were  open  to  the  visitors,  and 
even  those  who  had  been  intimately  associated  with 
the  development  of  Bucks  Pocket  were  surprised  at  the 
progress  that  had  been  made. 


Christ  Liveth  in  Me;  341 

A  reproduction  of  Cliff  Anderson's  Wild  Cat  dis- 
tillery was  shown,  the  covered  wagon  drawn  by  a  yoke 
of  oxen  in  which  the  Wares  entered  Bucks  Pocket. 
The  old  "Hard  Shell"  meeting  house  was  rebuilt,  as 
well  as  a  cabin  in  which  one  of  the  lonesome  souls  was 
confined. 

There  were  old  fashioned  spinning  wheels  and  hand 
looms,  coonskin  caps,  long  squirrel  rifles,  and  hunting 
horns. 

A  cabin  had  been  built,  an  exact  reproduction  of  the 
Wilbur  Ware  cabin  with  its  puncheon  floor,  stick  and 
dirt  chimney,  with  Peggy's  attic  room,  the  "Georgia" 
bedstead  and  straw  tick. 

The  ox  cart,  the  crude  farming  implements  were  all 
on  exhibition. 

The  beginning  of  Peggy's  school  was  shown,  with 
Peggy  teaching  the  old  folks  how  to  spell  and  write 
their  names. 

There  was  a  great  exhibit  showing  the  improvement 
in  agriculture,  in  horticulture,  in  handicraft  work. 

The  transposition  stage  from  the  ox  cart  to  the  au- 
tomobile was  suitably  expressed.  A  procession  of  the 
"old"  and  the  "new"  was  reviewed  by  the  Governor, 
headed  by  a  few  veterans  of  the  Civil  War  wearing  the 
Confederate  gray,  carrying  a  tattered  Confederate  bat- 
tle flag,  followed  by  a  company  of  Peggy  Ware  School 
boys  clad  in  the  khaki  uniform  of  Uncle  Sam. 

Marching  behind  these  came  boys  and  girls,  some 
barefooted,  some  wearing  brogans,  all  dressed  in  the 
homespun  garments,  ill  fitting,  poorly  made,  of  the 
old  days  in  Bucks  Pocket,  and  then  came  the  hundreds 
of  boys  and  girls  of  the  Peggy  Ware  School  clad  in 
their  tasty,  neat  fitting  uniforms. 

When  the  marchers  were  seated,  the  exercises  were 
opened  by  Wilbur  Ware,  who  offered  a  fervent  prayer 


342  Peggy    Ware; 

of  thanksgiving,  after  which  he  introduced  the  Gov- 
ernor of  Alabama. 

"This  is  the  most  significant  gathering  I  have  ever 
attended,"  he  said,  "and  if  I  spoke  until  the  sun  goes 
down  I  could  not  say  one-half  that  is  in  my  heart  to 
say  about  the  Peggy  Ware  School,  and  those  who  have 
helped  in  this  wonderful  work." 

Briefly  he  sketched  the  work  from  the  beginning,  its 
growth  and  far-reaching  influence,  paying  a  lofty  trib- 
ute to  Peggy  Ware  as  well  as  those  who  had  so  nobly 
aided  in  the  work. 

"I  am  especially  interested  because  of  the  class  of 
people  being  reached  by  the  Peggy  Ware  School  and 
its  allied  activities.  I  love  these  mountains  and  moun- 
tain people.  I  am  one  of  them,  and  speak  their  lan- 
guage. I  know  the  goodness  of  their  hearts,  the  long- 
ing of  their  souls,  their  unflinching,  undying  loyalty 
to  any  cause  they  may  espouse. 

"They  gave  the  worH  its  greatest  example  of  hero- 
ism and  sacrifice  when  for  four  long  years  they  fought 
for  what  they  believed  was  a  great  principle,  often 
hungry,  half  clad,  leaving  the  blood  prints  on  the 
frozen  ground  from  their  bare  feet.  When  the  noble 
Lee  surrendered,  he  told  General  Grant  that  his  men 
had  had  nothing  to  eat  but  parched  corn  for  several 
days,  and  that  gallant  chieftain  opened  his  commis- 
saries to  the  half-starved  Confederates. 

"When  France  sent  up  the  Macedonian  cry  for  help, 
Alabama  sent  the  most  dashing,  daring  soldiers  that 
fought  for  the  cause  of  righteousness,  and  your  own 
mountain  boys  were  always  first  over  the  top. 

"The  Peggy  Ware  School  is  teaching  the  love  of 
country,  the  love  of  our  glorious  Constitution.  I  de- 
clare most  solemnly  that  in  no  part  of  the  United  States 
is  there  a  more  loyal  people  to  our  National  Govern- 


Christ  Liveth  in  Me;  343 

ment  than  in  the  South.  It  is  the  most  distinctively 
American  section  of  the  land.  We  have  no  English- 
Americans,  German-Americans,  Irish-Americans,  but 
just  plain  Americans,  who  can  respond  as  one  man  to 
the  sentiment,  'My  country,  right  or  wrong,  but  still 
my  country.' 

"We  have  no  room  in  the  South  for  Bolshevists, 
Anarchists  and  other  wild-eyed,  half-baked  Americans 
who  would  destroy  our  civilization  by  undermining  the 
very  foundations  on  which  our  Government  stands. 

"If  the  time  ever  conies  when  a  Godless  army 
marches  under  a  red  flag  shouting,  'Down  with  the 
Government,'  the  South,  still  filled  with  the  spirit  of 
idealism,  of  love  of  country,  of  faith  in  God,  will  rally 
as  one  man  around  the  Stars  and  Stripes,  and  in  that 
hour  God  have  mercy  on  the  hosts  of  disorder  and  de- 
struction, when  these  mountain  boys  give  the  rebel 
yell,  and  charge  as  their  sires  did  at  Gettysburg,  or 
as  they  did  on  the  bloody  fields  of  France,  shouting: 
'For  God  and  Country  !' 

"I  pray  this  day  may  never  come,  and  if  the  spirit 
of  the  Peggy  Ware  school  can  pervade  every  nook  and 
corner  of  our  beloved  land,  this  great  tragedy  will  not 
take  place." 

The  Governor  took  his  seat  amidst  great  applause, 
the  band  playing  "America." 

As  the  last  note  died  away,  Cliff  Anderson,  bearing 
a  huge  bouquet  of  roses,  approached  the  platform 
where  Peggy  sat. 

"I  tried  to  git  somebody  else  to  do  the  talkin',  but 
they  put  it  on  me,"  he  said.  "An'  I  guess  I'm  gittin' 
like  a  well  broke  ol'  hoss.  I  work  anywhare  they  hitch 
me. 

"This  bowkay,  Miss  Peggy,  has  a  rosebud  from  ev- 
ery member  of  the  Peggy  Ware  School,  an'  one  frum 


344  Peggy    Ware 

every  citizen  of  Bucks  Pocket,  an'  each  bud  means 
more  love  than  I  could  carry  on  my  back. 

"I  told  'em  I  couldn't  make  no  speech,  an'  I  guess 
they  know  it  now." 

Peggy  was  greatly  affected,  and  could  scarcely  find 
her  voice.  "Your  speech,  Mr.  Anderson,  is  just  as  elo- 
quent as  the  gift  is  beautiful.  I  can  only  say,  'God 
bless  you,  one  and  all." 

"I  am  going  to  ask  for  reports  from  some  of  my 
helpers,"  said  Peggy,  "on  the  progress  made  in  their 
departments.    We  will  now  hear  from  Dr.  Weston." 

"We  have  no  more  'lonesome  folks',"  he  declared. 
"They  have  all  been  cured  and  our  sanatorium  has  been 
converted  to  other  purposes.  We  won't  need  it  any 
more,  for  we  have  removed  the  causes  that  brought  on 
the  disease. 

"We  have  no  sickness,  for  right  thinking  and  right 
living  means  the  elimination  of  so-called  disease.  We 
have  taught  the  boys  and  girls,  and  even  the  older  peo- 
ple, how  to  consciously  renew  and  rebuild  their  bodies 
as  well  as  their  brains,  and  by  and  by  you  will  hunt 
in  vain  for  an  old  man  or  woman. 

"Growing  old  is  a  habit,  and  we  have  got  out  of  it. 
A  man  should  retain  all  his  vigor  and  faculties  unim- 
paired until  he  is  a  century  old,  at  least,  and  probably 
much  longer.  When  he  has  fulfilled  his  work  here,  his 
soul  will  long  for  release,  and  he  will  go  over  on  the 
other  side. 

"The  Bible  tells  us  that  Enoch  walked  with  God, 
and  he  was  not,  for  God  took  him. 

"We  are  walking  with  'good,'  by  scientific,  right 
thinking,  and  when  we  reach  the  end  of  the  journey, 
God  will  just  take  us. 

"Our  scientific   brain   and   body  building  needs   no 


Christ  Livkth  in  Me  345 

other  advocate  than  these  boys  and  girls  whom  you  see 
before  you  today." 

"Our  distinguished  friend,  Mr.  Winslow,  will  tell 
us  about  the  motion  picture  industry,"  said  Peggy,  as 
the  well  known  author  stepped  to  the  front  of  the  plat- 
form. 

"From  fourth  place  in  importance,  the  motion  pic- 
ture industry  now  ranks  first  in  the  industrial  and  ar- 
tistic world.  Tremendous  changes  have  taken  place 
since  you  saw  your  first  exhibit  in  Bucks  Pocket.  The 
producers  of  indecent,  unwholesome,  suggestive  pic- 
tures have  been  driven  from  the  field,  and  today,  no 
picture  is  made  that  is  not  fit  to  exhibit  in  any  home, 
school  or  church  in  the  land.  The  people  engaged  in 
the  industry  today  are  just  as  honest,  just  as  respect- 
able, just  as  wholesome  as  our  preachers,  bankers, 
lawyers,  doctors  and  other  professional  or  business 
men.  The  business  has  been  taken  out  of  the  specu- 
lative field,  and  placed  on  a  sound  commercial  basis. 
The  little  two-by-four  stars  that  formerly  received 
more  money  per  week  than  the  Chief  Justice  of  the 
Supreme  Court  gets  as  a  year's  salary,  now  twinkle  no 
more,  or  if  they  have  survived,  they  don't  draw  quite 
as  much  salary  as  the  President  of  the  United  States. 

"The  reign  of  graft,  waste,  and  corruption  is  over, 
and  as  a  consequence,  pictures  are  being  produced  on 
the  same  basis  as  a  beautiful  house  would  be  built ;  and 
the  people  can  see  the  best  pictures  produced  for  a 
reasonable  price,  and  the  public  is  not  bled  for  the 
benefit  of  the  class  who  heretofore  reveled  in  luxury 
and  vice  that  such  luxury  usually  brings. 

"We  have  found  many  real  actors  and  actresses,  and 
today  we  are  not  confined  to  a  few  high-priced  stars 
for  our  leading  characters.      Much  of  the  teaching  in 


346  Peggy    Ware 

schools  is  now  done  through  pictures,  and  all  the 
churches  exhibit  them. 

"Moving  pictures  are  a  greater  factor  for  good  to- 
day than  any  other  one  agency  in  the  world,  and  I  am 
tempted  to  say,  than  all  others  combined." 

"My  father  will  tell  us  about  the  work  of  the  Com- 
munity Centers,"  said  Peggy. 

"We  have  an  even  hundred  Community  Centers 
now,"  stated  Wilbur  Ware,  "where  we  have  our  Sun- 
day Schools,  our  church  service,  our  lectures,  and  in 
general  all  gatherings  for  the  public  welfare.  On  Sun- 
day evenings  we  always  have  a  high  class  picture  show 
at  a  price  that  makes  it  possible  for  everyone  to  at- 
tend. 

"In  the  Peggy  Ware  School,  we  teach  the  highest 
dramatic  art,  and  many  of  our  boys  are  finished  ora- 
tors and  others  of  our  pupils  develop  into  real  actors 
and  actresses.  So  when  they  go  back  to  their  homes, 
they  become  leaders  in.  the  Community  Center  work, 
and  we  now  have  many  preachers,  teachers  and  actors. 
They  are  helping  to  make  life  over  in  these  hundred 
communities. 

"We  have  no  creed,  no  dogma,  in  our  churches.  We 
teach  that  there  is  but  one  road  to  salvation,  and  that 
is  the  road  that  leads  to  the  crucifixion  of  the  animal 
man,  and  the  exaltation  of  the  soul.  The  road  to  sal- 
vation is  not  an  easy  one,  and  all  so-called  plans  of 
salvation  that  invite  to  flowery  paths  are  false  trails 
and  lead  to  nowhere. 

"Salvation  means  wholeness  in  body,  mind  and 
spirit.  It  means  joy,  peace,  prosperity  and  the  vast 
storehouse  of  God,  wide  open  to  all  who  desire  to  en- 
ter. It  is  heaven  here  and  now  .instead  of  in  some 
far  away  future. 

"We  teach  men  and  women  to  be  brave  and  fearless. 


Christ  Liveth  in  Me  347 

No  painted  devil  of  their  childhood's  fancy  with  forked 
tail  and  iron  pitchfork  can  harm  them,  but  only  the 
devil  of  self  can  bring  evil  to  them. 

"And  above  all,  we  tell  them  that  only  God  can 
satisfy  the  hungry,  longing  soul. 

"It  would  require  volumes  to  recount  the  good  that 
has  been  accomplished  in  these  communities,  and  our 
message  to  the  world  is  'Come  and  see'." 

"I  know  we  all  want  to  hear  from  Mr.  Anderson," 
said  Peggy,  and  the  crowd  set  up  a  lusty  call  for  'And- 
erson !  Anderson !'  He  was  the  hero  of  the  boys,  and 
a  romantic  figure  to  the  girls. 

"I  ain't  got  nothin'  to  say  about  myself,"  he  de- 
clared, '"cept  that  I  wus  blind  before  Miss  Peggy  came 
to  Bucks  Pocket,  an'  now  I  am  beginnin'  to  see  a  lit- 
tle bit. 

"I've  seen  it  change  frum  the  Wild  Cat  still  and  mean 
licker  to  this  big  school  house  an'  the  fines'  set  of  boys 
an'  gals  in  Alabama.  I've  seen  the  old  trail  leadin'  out 
of  the  Pocket  change  to  the  finest  road  in  the  State, 
over  which  the  King  and  Queen  of  Belgium  traveled 
to  Bucks  Pocket,  an'  we  have  named  it  the  'Royal  High- 
way.' 

"We  have  harnessed  the  water  of  Sauty  Creek  an' 
it's  turnin'  machinery  an'  furnishin'  electric  lights  to 
the  farmers  fur  miles  an'  miles.  I  guess  I  could  stan' 
here  an'  talk  to  you  ontil  you'd  all  git  tired  of  hearin' 
me,  fur  it's  the  only  subject  I  kin  speak  on  without 
gittin'  the  'buck  aguer.' 

"So  I'll  quit  by  savin'  back  of  it  all  is  Miss  Peggy 
Ware,  who  is  one  of  God's  angels  He  sent  down  here 
to  lead  us  out  of  our  ignorance." 

"These  reports  fill  my  soul  with  gratitude,"  declared 
Peggy.  "There  are  many  others  who  have  aided  in  the 
work.    I  should  like  to  hear  from  all  of  them,  but  time 


348  Peggy    Ware 

will  not  permit.  Mrs.  Anderson  has  played  a  big  part 
and  so  has  Ruth.  You  know  of  their  work,  and  all 
join  me  in  doing  honor  to  them. 

"There  is  one  other  person  whom  I  want  to  publicly 
honor  today  before  this  vast  assemblage  of  people. 
You  all  know  and  love  Uncle  Simon.  I  am  going  to 
give  him  a, bouquet  of  these  beautiful  roses  from  the 
one  you  gave  me,  as  a  token  of  our  love,  and  esteem 
for  a  man  of  another  race  whose  life  marks  him  as  a 
Son  of  God." 

"Let  me  tarry  it  to  him,"  said  Peggy  Junior,  '"tause 
I  love  him,  too." 

Peggy  gave  her  the  bouquet,  and  she  carried  it  to 
the  back  of  the  platform  where  Simon  sat,  handed  it 
to  him,  made  a  neat  little  curtsey  as  she  said :  "Dis 
is  'tause  we  loves  you  des  as  dood  as  if  you  warn't 
black." 

The  old  man  rose,  trembling  visibly,  the  roses  in 
his  upraised  hand.  Little  Peggy,  holding  the  other 
hand,  led  him  to  the  front  of  the  stage.  The  tears 
were  coursing  down  his  black  cheeks,  and  his  voice  was 
shaking  with  emotion. 

"White  folks,"  he  said,  and  it  was  a  long  time  be- 
fore he  could  go  on.  "White  folks,  when  we  all  git 
up  yondah,  an'  you  treat  me  as  good  as  you  do  heah, 
it'll  be  all  de  heabin  I  wants." 

The  audience  rose  to  its  feet  as  one  man,  and  stood 
for  a  moment  in  silent  homage  to  the  venerable  old 
man  whose  childhood  harked  back  to  the  jungles  of 
Africa. 

"I  will  speak  just  a  few  words,"  Peggy  declared, 
"and  then  we  will  sing  the  national  anthem.  We  sing 
it  every  morning  at  the  opening  of  our  school,  and  I 
don't  believe  there  is  an  audience  in  the  United  States 


Christ  Liveth  in  Me  349 

that  can  sing  it  with  more  of  the  spirit  of  understand- 
ing than  this  one. 

"The  work  done  here  speaks  for  itself  more  loudly 
and  more  eloquently  than  could  a  thousand  tongues 
such  as  mine.  Of  that  work  I  will  say  naught,  but 
of  the  foundation  on  which  it  rests  I  would  speak 
briefly. 

"The  foundation  on  which  we  have  built  is  God  and 
the  Constitution,  with  Christ  as  the  chief  cornerstone 
and  faith  as  the  pilot,  and  vision  as  our  guiding  star. 
Our  port  of  destination  is  called  compensation,  and  in 
that  port  we  will  each  find  his  suitable  reward. 

"I  hold  that  we  grow  into  the  likeness  and  image  of 
our  vision,  and  that  through  faith  the  very  portals  of 
heaven  are  open  to  us,  and  all  that  belongs  to  the 
Father  is  ours. 

"We  believe  in  the  Divinity  of  Jesus,  and  also  in  the 
Divinity  of  our  boys  and  girls.  This  is  why  I  make 
bold  to  say  that  all  things  belong  to  us. 

"We  owe  to  the  sacred  Constitution  written  by  our 
forefathers  the  glorious  privilege  of  working  out  our 
destinies  here  in  Bucks  Pocket,  and  therefore,  I  put 
it  as  one  of  the  foundation  stones  of  our  institution.  It 
is  the  bulwark  of  our  liberties.  It  is  the  beacon  light  of 
the  world's  struggling  humanity.  It  is  the  fortifica- 
tion that  stands  against  the  assaults  of  those  who 
would  destroy  our  individual  liberties,  the  sacredness 
of  our  homes,  and  the  holiness  of  the  marriage  tie. 

"It  is  the  banner  high  over  all,  under  which  we  can 
rest  in  peace  and  security,  worshiping  God  and  pro- 
mulgating to  the  world  the  teachings  of  Jesus  Christ. 

"Destroy  our  Constitution  and  civilization  will  go 
back  into  the  dark  ages.  Uphold  it,  and  unfurl  our 
banner  to  all  the  world  on  which  is  written  in  imperish- 
able letters,  'God  and  the  Constitution,'  and  beneath 


350  Peggy    Ware 

its  ample  folds  all  mankind  can  find  the  road  to  salva- 
tion and  to  God. 

"We  will  now  sing  America,  and  I  want  every  soul 
here  to  take  part." 

Little  Peggy  was  perched  on  Simon's  shoulder,  a  tiny 
flag  in  her  hand,  and  as  the  audience  sang,  each  one 
waved  the  stars  and  stripes,  and  high  above  the  others 
could  be  seen  the  flag  held  in  her  tiny  hand  by  Peggy 
Ware  Weston. 

"My  country  'tis  of  thee, 
Sweet  Land  of  Liberty, 

Of  thee  I  sing: 
Land  where  my  fathers  died, 
Land  of  the  pilgrim's  pride, 
From  every  mountainside, 

Let  freedom  ring." 


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demand  may  be  renewed  if  application  is  made  before 
expiration  of  loan  period. 


DEC  8?i  — 


50»i-8,'26 


465253 


"•"VERSITY 


OF 


CAUFORN'A  tlBRAW 


